


Freezing Inferno

by cafe_les_bean



Category: Wings of Fire - Tui T. Sutherland
Genre: Apex does not approve of his family's decisions, Apex is bad at feelings, Before The Prophecy, Enemies to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, I only read up to book eight, IceWings (Wings of Fire), M/M, Nonbinary Character, Permafrost didn't sign up for this, Political plots, SkyWing Arena, SkyWings (Wings of Fire), coypu the babysitter, oh how the turns have tabled - Freeform, some serious bamboozling happening here, sorry for any inaccuracies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:49:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 29
Words: 57,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26225938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cafe_les_bean/pseuds/cafe_les_bean
Summary: In and out. A clean, simple job. Easy enough, for a trained assassin such as Permafrost.At least, that's how it was supposed to go.But what happens when your opponent exceeds your expectations? How should you react when years of preparing for one single moment adds up to nothing in the end, all because of a meager paperweight? And, most importantly, what do you do when you begin to fall in love with the prince you were hired to kill?
Comments: 49
Kudos: 59





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story was sorta on a whim, so updates will probably be irregular. Sorry! I dabble in a lot of fandoms, so ideas tend to just crop up without warning and demand precedence over the others. I hope you enjoy these two goofballs as much as I do, and find the twists and turns exciting :)

~Before The Prophecy~

Queen Holly picked at her teeth with a bone, her razor-sharp tail lazily whipping from side to side. Her court of fools needlessly bickered about Skywing this and Skywing that, going back and forth on matters that neither interested nor involved her. She slouched further against her rigid throne, constructed from ice and diligently maintained. Besides being unimpressed by the solutions her advisors managed to craft with the one brain cell they collectively seemed to share, she had already come up with a plan of her own. A simple one, really, something that should have been the obvious answer weeks ago but for some reason hadn’t been considered. It was a game at this point; Holly held her secrets close to her chest, just so she could see how long it took them to figure it out. Unfortunately for them, their time was rapidly running out. Something had to be done in retaliation regarding the ambassador that had died at the hands of the SkyWing royal family three weeks ago, something that would send a very clear message that the Kingdom Of Ice was not to be trifled with. If they waited any longer, it would make them appear weak: Now, while the SkyWings were just beginning to lower their guard, would be the perfect time to take decisive action. 

“What if we destroy their hatchery and everything inside?” Her slimy little nuisance of a tactician, Flake, hissed. 

“Ah, yes, kill hundreds of unborn dragons. That will surely show them. Who shall we attack next, their orphans? Oh, I know!” Holly straightened to her full height, an expression of mock delight briefly flitting across her face. “Let’s nip it in the bud and execute all the soon-to-be mothers! What a brilliant plan, Flake. Honestly, what would I do without you?” 

“Ah…” Flake shifted his pale wings uncomfortably. “I was merely suggesting-”

“I know very well what you were suggesting, Flake. I’m not an imbecile.”

If it was possible for a milky-white dragon to go pale, her tactician would most certainly have done so. “Of course not, Your Highness! I would never presume to think down upon your superior intellect! I-It is an honor to serve--”

“Oh, stop your blubbering.” Holly threw her makeshift toothpick at his feet, feeling a flicker of amusement at the way he danced out of its path. She languidly slunk from her position on the throne and made her way down the dias, towards where her advisors were gathered in a half-circle. “On and on and on, I grow tired of it. And anyway, I’m simply messing with you. It’s fun watching you squirm.” She stretched her long and elegant neck, glittering with midnight blue jewelry and sapphires that were either passed down as a family heirloom or collected during one of many conquests. Looking down her nose at them, her trusted committee looked more like a group of frivolously adorned children playing at War than a group of high-ranking professionals. “But we are not monsters. I will not resort to violence against children.”

“What do you suggest we do, Queen Holly?” She said a silent thanks to her Secretary Of Treasury, Polar. He always seemed to catch on slightly faster than the rest of her travelling circus, and had picked up on the mischievous glimmer that made her purple eyes shine like amethysts. 

“Well, it’s simple, really.” She began to pace in a circle around the gathering of old dolts like a shark in deep water. “A life for a life seems fair, does it not? Of course, we cannot even begin to think about removing the Sky Queen’s daughter from the picture, as that will just end in a war between our kingdoms. And after the stunt they pulled, I highly doubt we’ll be seeing hide nor horn of a Skywing ambassador anytime soon, so that’s out of the question. Killing their queen will just plunge the Sky Kingdom into anarchy, which would be devastating for anyone involved.”

“So,” another voice chimed in, belonging to her defensive strategist, Lichen. “Are you suggesting that we eliminate… Apex?”

She rumbled happily, pleased to see that at least one of her advisors had a brain bigger than the size of a peanut. “Precisely.”

“But,” Polar was quick to intervene, “how do you suggest we get anywhere near the prince? Surely you don’t expect to just march up to the gates and demand to see him? The Sky Kingdom won’t let any IceWing near the western border, let alone the palace.” 

“I’m glad you brought that up.” Holly was not deterred. She had, after all, spent weeks planning this. “Because the Sky Kingdom won’t even know that an IceWing is in their castle until it’s too late. Permafrost, you may reveal yourself.”

A small dragon, lithe and quiet as falling snow, effortlessly glided from a high-set window on wings silent as a snow owls’. The air seemed to move through him, as if he was a void that drank up every little noise and left nothing behind. Even as he approached them, his shimmering lavender scales and white underbelly seemed to fade into the backdrop, becoming a part of the surrounding landscape. As suspected, the members of her court looked equal pats astounded and frightened. 

“This is Permafrost. He is part of an elite unit of IceWings that devote themselves to mastering stealth and merciless efficiency. He has been training with them since he hatched, and has more than proved himself on various sting operations around the continent. He is our secret weapon.” She tilted her head towards the still assassin, standing at attention a few tail-lengths away. 

“An assassin?” Flake gulped, raising a shaky claw to draw the attention towards himself. “How long has he been sitting up there, listening to our meetings?”

“Two weeks.” Permafrost’s voice slid through the room like ice, making the advisors shiver. It was smooth and polished as an opal, with the typical accent of IceWing commoners elegantly threaded through each word. “I am there an hour before you arrive and an hour after you leave.” 

No one seemed willing to speak up after that, and most of them had their heads bent down in shame. Holly figured that she would be ashamed as well if her job was to protect the kingdom at all costs and she didn’t notice a potential threat lingering in close quarters for fourteen days. 

“No more objections? Well, then. It’s settled.” She turned back to Permafrost, eyeing him appraisingly. “You will depart for the Sky Kingdom at first light. I’ll have a travel bag prepared for you, as well as a map of the Sky Kingdom drawn up to guide your way. I’m putting my faith in you, Permafrost. Don’t disappoint me.” 

Permafrost drew himself into a deep bow, spreading his wings out gracefully. “It shall be done, Your Majesty.”


	2. Chapter One

Parties were, as Condor put it, atrocious. They were an obscene spectacle of primp and preen, fruitlessly wasted resources, and dragons bowing so low that the tips of their noses brushed against the dirt. All the bragging and bootlicking was enough to drive a dragon crazy, if they hadn’t already lost their mind in the process of  _ getting ready  _ for the affair. Hours wasted filing his nails to the desired sharpness and scrubbing his scales until they gleamed; Apex felt as much on display as the gold threaded throughout the cave’s interior. His sister and heir to the SkyWing throne, Princess Condor, seemed almost as disconcerted by the attention as Apex himself.  _ Almost. _ The crucial difference was the fact that Condor was something to be respected, feared, looked upon with equal parts joy and envy. Apex was merely an ornament on his family tree, serving no real purpose save for decoration purposes. It had been drilled into him since he was a dragonet: He would never grow to greatness. He was destined to watch his sister be adored, and hope that a mere fraction of that reverence was left for him in the aftermath. So… yes. Apex hated parties and all they represented. 

No one would have been able to tell, from the way he carried himself. What Apex lacked in status he more than made up for in talent and power. It practically radiated from his scales and shone like a diamond amidst coal while he mingled with the highborns in attendance. He seamlessly swirled the contents of his cup around, as if the smooth motions of his wrist and careful control of his talons came naturally to him. After years of refining the skill it took to maintain a balance of grace and strength, he supposed it had developed into less of a conscious action and more of a habit. He was a firm believer that the little things in life were the best displays of power, not the brutal shows of force that drove most dragons to war. Which, funnily enough, was exactly the point of this celebration. Her Royal Majesty, Queen Pyre, had just rid herself of a very troublesome nuisance  _ and _ called out the weaknesses of the Ice Kingdom in one fell swoop. While Apex didn’t approve of the method of execution--that is to say, the IceWing ambassador was tossed in the arena--he begrudgingly admitted that the move was necessary after months of being provoked. Various statues of dragons had been discovered near the Sky Palace, frozen into various positions of terror. Upon closer inspections, these grotesque attempts at art were discovered to be very much real and very much dead. Talk about tactlessness. They could have at least attached a card with these  _ gifts _ .

“Prince Apex!” A high and grating voice pulled him from his thoughts, but they still lingered in the back of his mind like a ghost, ready to leap out at him when he least expected it. “You’re looking rather stunning today.” 

“Smoke,” Apex greeted smoothly. “I’m afraid that I pale in comparison to you, my lady.” And there it was. The giggle that told Apex everything he needed to know about Smoke. She was less interested in him than the  _ idea _ of him, but that was nothing new. The shimmering gold of his scales caught in the torchlight, and Apex thought she might feint. Of course he had been lying; her dull red scales and amber eyes made her look downright  _ boring _ next to Apex, but a little embellishment could go a long way with the aristocracy. It was much better to have friends than enemies, even if the bureaucrats themselves were friends with a mask, not the dragon beneath it. 

“Oh, stop it,” she hissed behind a plume of smoke, her namesake. Apex found it unseemly that she would allow the thick smog to escape from her nostrils, but he hid his disgust behind a charismatic smile. Luckily he didn’t have to make further small talk, as his sister was frantically gesturing for him to meet her in the hallway. 

“Oh, my lady will have to excuse me. Loath as I am to part with a rare beauty such as yourself, I fear the princess is in dire need of my assistance.” The words slipped easily off his tongue; Practiced and polished to perfection. 

Was that…  _ jealousy _ he saw flashing through her golden-flecked eyes. She was… jealous that his attention was divided amongst her and his kin? What exactly did she think his sister was going to do… No, he didn’t want to think about it. Needless to say, he was willing to bet that Smoke’s family gatherings were, if nothing else, very close-knit. She bowed and took her leave, gravitating towards the diverse assortment of food lined against the far wall, piled on top of golden platters. He assumed it was so that she could fill the hole in her heart left behind by Apex with frog legs from the Mud Kingdom and seaweed truffles from the Sea Kingdom. Before a new parasite could arrive to leech off of his wealth and prominence, he snaked through the crowd towards Condor. She rounded the corner just as he arrived, her pale pink tail slipping out of sight. He followed suit and found her draped over a nearby windowsill in a rather unladylike position. 

“Condor, get down before someone sees you. You know how cross mother will be if rumors spread that you’re behaving like a hooligan,” he urgently whispered. 

“Oh, yes,” she drawled as she fluttered back to the ground on light wings, “because laying down for a moment is roguish behavior. What savagery. Would you lighten up, Apex? My feet were getting tired, and unless you’re offering to give them a massage…” She stuck her foot in the air and wiggled her talons in Apex’s face. He pushed it away, desperately trying to suppress the laugh rising in his throat. He couldn’t help the impish grin that curled at the corners of his mouth, try as he might. 

“Alright, alright! I get the message, you can stop!” condor gingerly placed her foot on the ground with a nearly inaudible gasp, as if her claws actually did ache. After a night of being accosted by suitors begging for a dance and trampling her toes in their fumbling attempts to impress her, Apex had no doubt in his mind that she wasn’t merely exaggerating her pain. He wished he could help, but he certainly wasn’t qualified to give medical advice. “So, what did you need me for?”

“Oh, nothing.” Condor’s tone was light, airy, and full of mischief. “You just looked so miserable talking to Soot, so I thought I’d save you from that terrible fate.” 

Apex didn’t bother correcting the name, as he had a feeling she had gotten it wrong on purpose. “Did I truly look upset? I must be losing my touch, then. Or perhaps it was an alluring sort of brooding, like I was pondering the mysteries of the universe.” 

Condor snorted and smoke curled around her horns. “More like the mysteries of the female mind. No, brother, you looked as enamoring as always. It’s only because we’ve known each other since we hatched that I can see beyond your amiable facade.”

Though he had been joking, it was still a relief to know that he hadn’t been slipping. One wrong step could put him at the center of a whirlwind of gossip around the kingdom, which was never good for anyone involved. “What would I do without you looking out for me? However, I’m afraid that we should be getting back. We’ll be missed.”

The playful glint in his sister’s flintlock eyes softened into something closer to compassion. “No, Apex. You should get some rest. You look exhausted, like someone hung you out by the tail to dry. I’ll cover for you. Oh!” The lively spark of pep returned to her gaze. “I’ll announce that you’ve eaten bad shrimp! That should put to rest any fantasies your admirer’s are having in regards to spending the night with their dashing prince.” 

“But--”

“No arguing! It’s a royal decree, punishable by execution should my orders fail to be carried out!”

“You aren’t the queen,” Apex pointed out. 

“Yet,” she sang as she skipped away, back towards the brightly lit room and din of excited voices. As much as he hated to acknowledge the truth of his sister’s statement, he  _ was _ exhausted beyond belief. He had spent the night training with the Master-of-arms, Kite, and had barely squeezed one hour of sleep in before he had to prepare for the gathering. With a resigned sigh, he turned back towards his room and began the long trek down the dimly lit hallways of the Sky Palace. 

The walk back was a rather uneventful one, but he didn’t mind the mundanity. He’d take boring and tedious over rowdy and loud any day. If there was one thing in the world that he hated more than being put on display, it was the raucous demeanor of a dragon too deep in his cups. He supposed he also had his sister to thank for that; Giving him an excuse to leave before the royals in attendance had any real chance to get tipsy was a blessing. He was certain she would come up with some acceptable excuse, as she had many times before. At knew she hadn’t been serious about the shrimp thing. Or, at least, he  _ hoped _ she hadn’t been serious about the shrimp thing. He didn’t even like shrimp.

He breathed a sigh of relief upon reaching his room without running into distractions or anything else that would delay him from sleep. Apex felt a familiar swell of comfort when he stepped through the velvet curtains, the lush fabric brushing over his scales, and into his mildly cluttered bedroom. This was the side of Apex that no one--not even his sister--had ever seen. Stacks upon stacks of maps and scrolls, the continent of Pyrrhia covered nearly every viable surface. Sure, Apex had been studying maps from the time he was still learning to fly, but this went beyond a mere simple understanding of geography. The truth was, the prince may not have been in love with the dragons that populated Pyrrhia, but he revered the land  _ itself. _ The dense forests, the rivers that weaved themselves through rocky crags and emptied into the sea, even the mudflats to the east, Apex could spend hours studying every landmark and name that went along with it. He  _ had, _ as a matter of fact, and probably knew the continent better than the back of his own talon. Even just running his claws over the faded paper made him feel more at home, and he figured he had time for a bit of a cartography session before laying down for the night. But when he delicately slipped his quill into the ink, he felt a crisp breeze blow over his scales and craned his neck to discover that his window was ajar.  _ Strange, _ he thought,  _ I could have sworn it was shut when I left. _

Apex had barely just registered the mysteriously open window when his fighting instincts kicked in and he reflexively rolled out of the way, just as his attacker shot a blast of icy air at the area his head had been. No, not air…  _ Frostbreath _ , he thought grimly. He didn’t have time to dwell over the fact that an IceWing had somehow gotten past every single defensive measure around the palace. For now, his focus was directed solely at the flash of white that darted by out of the corner of his eye. Getting into a defensive position, he braced for impact while maintaining an agile-enough stance to dodge another icy blast, should one be sent his way. The IceWing stayed hidden for now, something that an experienced soldier would read as hesitation and a smart soldier would read as taking time to size up the enemy. Luckily for Apex, he was both smart  _ and _ experienced, so he knew his enemy was taking time to reevaluate. He--or she--had clearly not expected Apex to know more than the basics of evasive maneuvers, or had assumed that the prince was too tired to conduct himself well in combat. Apex was willing to wait however long it took, which was approximately two and a half seconds before a flash of white claws darted out from behind and attempted to unbalance him.

The prince stood his ground, even as they raked against his flank and tore through his scales to the muscle underneath. He cursed the serrated claws that all IceWings possessed, which were about the only thing that could easily pierce his hardened scales. He spun around, attempting to catch a glimpse of this mysterious IceWing, but they ducked out of the way once again. The next attack was more forthcoming, as was every subsequent charge. Apex backed towards his bookcase step-by-step, all the while being harried by the pale figure that seemed to dart in and out of battle like a wraith. The small dragon seemed to make no noise when it moved and carried out its attacks so precisely, it almost scared Apex to think about how this fight would play out on IceWing territory. But this was  _ his _ territory, not only his kingdom but also his personal dwelling. He knew the ins and outs of this place and was completely familiar with the way his claws scraped against the stone as he moved. Further and further back they moved until Apex was flush against the shelves carved into the stone wall of his room. He twisted around, eyes searching for what he needed as he felt the IceWing closing in on him… closer and closer…

The prince’s talons wrapped around a heavy weight, and he flung it straight at his pursuer’s open maw. It lodged in the Icewing’s throat and successfully blocked their Frostbreath, as well as did the job of incapacitating them as they choked. Apex wasted no time in leaping on their back and pinning them to the floor by their neck; One wrong move and they’d slice their windpipe open between Apex’ claws. Once they had managed to cough up the paperweight, they stopped struggling in the prince’s grip and went limp. The first thing Apex noticed was that this dragon was, indeed, male. Secondly, he found himself mesmerized by the way the IceWing’s lavender and pearly white scales glistened and frosted, like they themselves were made of ice. Lastly, he couldn’t help but marvel at how  _ small _ the dragon felt under his claws, even though the size of his horns indicated that he was nearly full-grown. 

With a thunderous crash, a whole host of guards filed into his room with spears pointed directly at the prince. Most of them lowered their spears upon seeing that he was in no immediate danger, some began fumbling with the cuffs attached to their hips, and all of them looked baffled. Apex grunted in disapproval and pushed away from the IceWing as they closed in to throw chains around his small form. 

“Seven minutes. Seven minutes from the onset of the attack to the time you lazy lumps of coal finally showed up. That’s seven minutes too late. You all are very lucky that I know how to defend myself, but next time it might not be my life in danger. It might come to be my sister’s life in your hands, the heir to the throne and the pride of her people. You better hope that, should she ever find herself in peril, you don’t show up too late to help. Otherwise, you’ll find that I’ll be far less lenient as far as your punishment goes.” Apex looked down his nose at the assassin, who was calmly staring back at him with pale blue eyes. Even with a bound snout, the effect was unsettling. Apex had faced countless dragons in combat, as well as quite a few jealous exes, but no dragon managed to unnerve him quite as much as the one at his feet. His tail twitched in agitation as he turned away “And take this criminal to a platform. Get him out of my sight, and leave me to my rest.” 

Even as he said it and heard the legion of soldiers draw out of his room, he knew he wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight. His mind was whirring, trying to piece together who this assassin was. He had faced IceWing opponents before and hadn’t known them to use such evasive techniques. Furthermore, it had been a long time since he had walked away from a fight more injured than his adversary. It was enough to make the prince want to interrogate his new prisoner, but that could wait until the morrow. For now, he had some serious map-making to do in order to take his mind off of the events that had unfolded over the course of the day.


	3. Chapter Two

The first thing Apex noticed was how loosely the ropes hung on his slight ankles. If there had been a guard hovering near the prisoner at the time, he couldn’t say what he might do out of anger for their sheer incompetence. If he had a gold piece for every time they neglected their duties… well, he was already wealthy. He supposed he’d simply have more gold than he knew what to do with. It would be coming out of his ears. But, luckily for them, they hadn’t positioned the IceWing anywhere near the guardhouse. Thus, Apex would just have to save his “stern-talking-to” for later. Right now, the thing that took precedence was the prisoner. They had sent a messenger hawk to Queen Holly, but he doubted that it would be able to harsh the unforgiving climate of the Ice Kingdom. Even if it did, the likelihood of the IceWing queen of sending a response was minimal at best. So, for now. The only lead they had was the dragon on the platform, curled up in a ball and pretending to be sleeping. Apex could tell he wasn’t  _ actually _ asleep just by looking at his breathing pattern, but it wasn’t exactly easy to spot. Whoever this mystery assailant was, he sure was good at masking appearances.  _ Just like me _ , Apex supposed. Though, he didn’t go around trying to kill other dragons. 

He landed practically on top of the “sleeping” dragon, hoping that it would force the IceWing to end his guise of being at rest. He couldn’t possibly think that the prince would believe that he had the ability to sleep through being stomped on… right? But even as the thought crossed Apex’s mind, the huddled form beneath him began to stir. Apex hated the relief that blossomed in his chest upon realizing that, as if he had been waiting for the prisoner. If anything, this IceWing should have been anxiously awaiting  _ his _ arrival, as Apex was the one who ultimately decided the assassin’s fate. Instead, he was the one who was agitated while the petite IceWing was stone-faced. And if that wasn’t enough, the glacial bastard had the  _ gall _ to greet him, like this was just a pleasant chance encounter or an exchange between friends. 

“Good morning. Can I help you with anything?” The IceWing didn’t even have the respect to stand at attention in Apex’s presence. He stayed in a tiny ball at the prince’s talons, the only change being in that he had opened one pale blue eye. 

“Can you--Oh, I don’t know. How about we start with the fact that you tried to kill me?!” The prisoner didn’t seem impressed: He just fixed Apex with a blank look. The Skywing prince took a deep breath and tried again, this time in a more even and ominous tone of voice. “Listen well, IceWing,” he spat the word like it was poison on his tongue. “Your life rests in my claws. You can either choose to cooperate, or--” 

“Pass.” The IceWing prisoner tucked his head into the folds of his lavender wings, abruptly ending the interaction. For a moment, Apex was at a loss for words. Then, he became furious. 

“You can’t just--”

“No, thank you.” 

“This is not optional--!”

“I’m trying to sleep.” 

“You little piece of--”

“I’m sleeping.”

“That’s it!” With a tremendous growl, Apex reached out and grabbed the IceWing’s tail. At least  _ that _ seemed to pull a reaction out of the frigid mongrel, who yelped and darted away. “You DO NOT have a choice in this! You gave up the right of refusal when you tried to turn me into a princesicle!!”

“Then why did you say ‘or’?” The assassin demanded, clutching his tail close to his chest. 

“What?” Apex was taken aback yet again.

“You said, and I quote, ‘You can either choose to cooperate, or.’ Why give me a choice if there was no alternative?”

“BECAUSE THE ALTERNATIVE IS DEATH!!” Apex roared at the IceWing assassin. To his surprise, the words didn’t seem to cow the polar dragon. Quite the opposite, as a matter of fact; the prisoner straightened to his full height and definitely met the prince’s fiery glare. 

“I choose death, then. Are we done here? I’m tired,” he replied in a voice as cool as his glistening scales. The way he said it was less like he had just sentenced himself to his own demise and more like he was choosing what to eat or which pen to write with. Then, he nonchalantly curled up into a ball once more with an aggrieved sigh. 

At first, Apex wasn’t sure if he had heard the IceWing correctly. Why would any dragon choose death over forfeited honor? As far as he knew, SkyWings were among the most proud dragons in all of Pyrrhia, and Apex would be hard-pressed to find a SkyWing willing to sacrifice himself for the sake of a royal secret. Sure, many of the guards claimed that they would give up everything if it meant the royal family would be safe, but Apex was not delusional enough to think that they meant what they said. It was a part of the oath; That was all. Furthermore, to his knowledge, the prince didn’t know IceWings to be a particularly loyal set of dragons. Dutiful as far as their position required, yes, but real patriotism and devotion came from passion. The IceWings were dull, cold, emotionless, and entirely obsessed with themselves. Therefore, it didn’t make any sense for this mysterious dragon, a dwarf in comparison to most other members of his tribe, to put his queen before himself  _ knowing _ that he will never be able to reap the benefits of his steadfast allegiancy. 

“I’m sorry?” Apex took a gentle step towards the dragon curled on the edge of the platform, as if he was now treading on unfamiliar territory. Essentially, he was. This IceWing was a mystery in more ways than one, an enigma that Apex intended to unravel. 

“You’re forgiven.” It just kept getting stranger and stranger. Not only had this dragon resigned himself to a pointless death at the claws of his enemy, but he had enough moxie left to banter with the SkyWing prince? Not only that, IceWings were known for being humorless and taking things rather seriously. This assassin’s witty remarks were dry, yes, but the fact that he even bothered to make them at all was astounding. 

“Who  _ are _ you?” In all his years, Apex had never met another dragon quite like the glittering purple one in front of him, let alone an IceWing. Consequently, he felt very far out of his depth at the moment. His composure had melted away, which wasn’t something that happened often and only served to unsettle him further. After all, it wasn’t every day that Apex got his walls knocked down by the dragon sent to kill him. 

The small IceWing sighed heavily, as if the question annoyed him. It probably did. Most of what Apex said seemed to annoy him. “I am Permafrost of the IceWing kingdom. I was hatched in the southern region, and I will die in the Sky Kingdom. Does that clear up all your questions, or would you also like to know what kind of food I like? Or maybe you’d like me to tell you my favorite color? Oh, perhaps you’re interested in my wing length.” He draped his tail over his snout and closed both of his eyes once more. “If I must die, let me die in peace. I have nothing left to discuss with you anyway.” 

While Apex didn’t want to seem as though he were giving into the prisoner’s demands, he recognized the fact that they really  _ didn’t _ have anything left to discuss. I mean, sure, he would like answers regarding the assasination attempt and whether Permafrost had been hired by the IceWing royalty. Unfortunately, he had a feeling that any dragon that was ready to relinquish his life for a cause would be unwilling to reveal anything about it. So, instead of pushing the matter further, he spun away in a fury and lifted off of the platform, making sure to whip Permafrost with his tail as he left. He hoped it bled. The stubborn walrus deserved it. Though, as he flew further away from the jutting rock that formed Permafrost’s prison, he felt a strange hollowness seeping into his chest. Like the ambassador before him, Permafrost’s decree likely meant that he’d go straight to the arena to fight for their amusement. It was a cruel fate to bestow upon anyone, even an attempted murderer. Apex knew that given a choice, the IceWing would see his head delivered to Queen Holly in a basket. Still, it didn’t make torturing Permafrost any easier, and it certainly didn’t help that Apex now knew his name.  _ I shouldn’t have asked. Then I wouldn’t care as much. He’d just be some nameless criminal to me, without a personality beyond his malicious intent _ . Apex cursed his own curiosity. 

What he didn’t know, couldn’t have known, was that Permafrost felt much the same. He had talked to his mark, the prince, far longer than he had meant to. Far longer, in fact, than he had ever talked to his victims before. Permafrost could easily have stayed silent during the prince’s interrogation, but he had  _ chosen _ to open his stupid maw and have a little chat, had even offered up his name. No one except the queen, her advisors, and Permafrost’s regime knew his name, and even then, it was rarely used. In his travels, Permafrost had created a variety of aliases, and he could have given the prince any one of them, but something about Apex had compelled the IceWing to tell the truth. It scared him, as it had scared Apex, that he seemed unable to put up his usual disguises around the SkyWing prince. 

~

By the time Apex arrived back at the palace, food was already being served in The Grand Hall. One might ask what made this hall so grand, and quite frankly, Apex was still trying to figure it out himself. It was a low cavern located deep within the heart of the Sky Palace, dimly lit by torches and decorated by the various banners of the Sky Kingdom over the years. The gold that accentuated the ballroom walls hadn’t quite crept in here, but that wasn’t to say the royal family didn’t eat off of gilded plates. It was just the four of them--the queen, Condor, Apex’s father, and Apex himself. As such, Condor abandoned all formal table manners when her brother entered the room in favor of rushing up to greet him. 

“Apex! How did the meeting with your prisoner go?” She asked as she rushed to greet him. Their mother, Queen Pyre, scoffed at the outburst but did nothing to quell it. Condor stopped expectantly in front of Apex, her tail swishing furiously from side to side.    
  


“Condor,” he chided, “it’s rude to leave the table without proper dismissal.” Despite the watchful eye of the queen, Apex couldn’t help but indulge his sister. “But it went… different than I had expected. It’s certainly going to be, erm… difficult to wrangle the truth out of this IceWing.” 

“Do you mean to say,” Queen Pyre drew herself up to her full height at the end of the table, teeth bared in agitation, “that he told you nothing?”

“No,” Apex began defensively. “I got his name.”

“His name?” Her Grace’s grip tightened around the edge of the table, talons digging into stone. “Oh, lovely. What was I even worried about? You got his name, problem solved! I’ll send a letter notifying Queen Holly of the end of our feud once I retire to my chambers tonight, because my son found out the name of her assassin!”

“It’s Permafrost, by the way.” Apex had long since grown used to his mother’s raving, and besides, a member of the royal family was expected to face everything with dignity and poise. 

Queen Pyre, however, was not amused. Her yellow eyes glinted and her tongue flicked over her fangs, a surefire sign that she was either killing something or thinking about killing something. “I granted you an audience with the prisoner, and he has rebuffed the generosity we showed him by giving him an option. I do not give second chances.”

“Please, let me talk with him again,” Apex entreated. He side-stepped his sister and turned his desperate stare on his father, who was hiding his face behind a gold-inlaid goblet.  _ Well, he’ll be of no help to me, _ Apex thought bitterly. “He will tell the truth, I just know it. All I need is a bit of time.” 

“Time? For what? For Queen Holly to send another minion to separate your head from your shoulders?” Queen Pyre slithered down from her place at the head of the table, lips pulled back into a snarl. “This IceWing had his chance. Now, he is at my mercy. I would like to see him in the arena tomorrow, to determine how well they train their mercenaries. After all, it has been such a long time since my champion had a challenge.” 

Apex couldn't believe what he was hearing. Permafrost was to be sent straight to the champion, without a proper trial? His incredulity must have shown on his face, because his mother looked extremely pleased with herself. “We needn’t resort to unnecessary violence,” Apex sputtered, desperately looking for a way out of this situation. He knew the IceWing would have to die one way or another, but he didn’t think he could stomach watching another dragon be torn limb from limb by their champion, Whirlwind. 

“Yes, just as Queen Holly didn’t need to resort to having my only son slain in the night, like the back-handed hoodlum she is. She doesn’t have the decency to discuss her grievances face to face, and instead hides behind her weapons. Perhaps if I send her hit dragon back to her in pieces, she’ll finally realize how much of a mistake it is to cross the queen of the Sky Kingdom!”

It was clear that she wouldn’t be moved to change her mind. Having suddenly lost his appetite, Apex turned on his heel and stormed out of The Grand Hall. Once again, Apex knew that he would be too inundated with thoughts of what was to come to sleep soundly. Ultimately, this arctic conundrum was bound to see the prince to his grave one way or another. 


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, it's about to go down >:)

Permafrost didn’t need to be told what fate awaited him when the guards came that morning. He had been watching the arena from above and the deadly battles that took place there. Queen Pyre was almost always present at these fights, unless the prisoners in question had committed some minor infraction, such as thieving or assault of a commoner. However, for Permafrost’s transgressions, the SkyWing queen was certain to be in attendance.  _ Well, _ he thought as the guards unhooked him from the ring of convicts,  _ I’ll have to put on a show for her. _ Judging from the way most of the dragons here had fought, he’d have no problem facing whatever challenge she decided to throw his way. Most of the skirmishes Permafrost had witnessed were won using brute strength, and the IceWing had been trained for years to use his opponent’s strength against them. The failed assasination of the prince was more of a fluke than anything; Permafrost was ashamed to admit that he had underestimated the prince’s intelligence, especially given the sheer size of the muscular SkyWing. He had assumed Apex was like every other brute he had faced in the past, particularly because SkyWings weren’t usually known for their quick-thinking. They were hotheads; Or, they were  _ supposed _ to be, anyway. 

Given that his wings were bound tightly to his side, he had to be carried down to the arena like a dragonet. It felt humiliating, but he kept his face stony and cold so as to keep up the illusion of indifference. Emotions got in the way, anyhow. He’d spent the last twenty years of his life learning how to keep a level head, something that had saved him from many perilous situations in the past. Once his talong were firmly planted on the ground and the guards had flown off to their posts on the balcony jutting out over the arena, he spun around in a circle to carefully document what kinds of dragons were mingled amid the crowd gathered on the bleachers. He saw mostly SkyWings, of course, but there were also a few MudWings and SeaWings present. No IceWings, but that was not surprising in the slightest. Beyond that, the only other dragons of note were the ones on the balcony: Queen Pyre, as expected, followed by an entourage of her mate, her children, and a handful of royal attendants. Permafrost’s eyes met Apex’s, who just as quickly looked away. 

How strange, to think an assassin’s target would feel sorry for one sent to end their life. Yet here Apex was, subverting Permafrost’s expectations once again. It seemed the prince had an uncanny ability to do so while maintaining a regal air about him. He was simultaneously exactly and exactly the opposite of what Permafrost had expected upon setting out for the Sky Palace. Well, he didn’t have much time to dwell on the prince’s unpredictability. For now, he had a competitor to face, most likely a SeaWing or, if he was particularly unlikely, a NightWing. Still, he knew how to keep his mind clear from all intrusive thoughts that might enter his head during melee. And yet, the guards didn’t seem to be taking flight from their posts at the queen’s side. No dragon was moving, in fact; The whole arena had gone still, as if everyone knew what was coming and held their breaths in anticipation. Permafrost couldn’t even begin to imagine what seemed to excite them, but he knew it couldn’t be good news for him. And just as the thought entered his head, it was confirmed by a hiss to his left, deep within the dark depths of a tunnel leading out of the pit. About a half a second passed in the span between that warning hiss and a plume of fire as it arced out and grazed the tip of Permafrost’s wing. The IceWing bit back a curse and jumped back a few feet, skillfully landing in a fighting stance meant to maximize evasion and minimize offense. If he was to be fighting against a dragon that favored fire as its main weapon, he’d need to be able to dance out of the way of the blasts. 

All hope of total avoidance left when Permafrost’s opponent finally slithered into the arena, crouched low to the ground. She was a SkyWing of a pinkish hue, covered from the tip of her snout to her tail in both scars and wounds still healing. If that wasn’t a good indicator of her experience in the stadium, Permafrost didn’t know what was. For a brief moment, the IceWing’s focus snapped from the SkyWing to the stands, where thousands of dragons were practically tripping over themselves in an attempt to get closer. Another strike to Permafrost’s luck, it would seem. The chances that his adversary was just a filler pitted against him for a quick match was dipping dangerously low with every delighted cheer and impassioned holler from those witnessing the event. Unlike his blunder in regards to the SkyWing prince, he would  _ not _ underestimate his foe once again. Accordingly, he carefully tracked each and every one of the pink SkyWing’s movements, fluid as they were, and tuned out the jeers and prodding from the audience. 

“So,” she rasped, “they’ve given me a lump of snow to melt, have they? How… unsatisfying.” Her words were punctuated by her tongue, which flicked out from between her teeth as she talked and flicked over her fangs.

Permafrost said nothing in reply. She was obviously unaccostomed to her prey being unresponsive to her goading, because her twisted smile soured into something akin to a snarl. She didn’t waste any more breath on Permafrost, instead focusing on the sliding of her talons against the course sand of the arena. The IceWing watched where she placed her feet, as well as the way her tail leaned to the right, and knew exactly how to stay one claw ahead. So, when she was through with the way they pointlessly circled each other and drew herself up to pounce on Permafrost, he easily stepped out of the way of her charge. While she was still unaware of where he was, he struck her right leg and watched as she lost her footing, skidding to the floor. Just as he had suspected: She had lost her vision in her right eye. To make up for it, she tread lightly on her right front foot and swung her tail in that direction at all times, most likely a habit borne from having to catch any threats before they could blindside her. Frustrated, she spun around before she had a chance to properly right herself and was consequently easily knocked over once again. As Permafrost dove out of the way of a blast of fire, he couldn’t help but think that this was exactly how he had expected a SkyWing to behave. Solely focused on strength, with a sheer lack of tact or poise when things didn’t work in their favor. 

“You little brat!!” She roared, claws digging into the soft earth in an attempt to stay solidly on all fours. The SkyWing swiveled her head around, craning her neck just to locate Permafrost, who was crouching across the arena. He saw the cruel lines of her mouth pull into a sneer, and that was when he knew she had spotted him. 

He was a bit less fortunate this time. She charged headlong at him, but this time, she had a strategy. Rather than trying to hit him straightforward, when he scrambled away from her snapping jaws, she caught the tip of his tail in her teeth. The spikes protruding from the end of it dug into the roof of her mouth, but she did not relent. Surprised as he was, Permafrost didn’t even make an attempt at a counter before she was flinging him from side to side. He repeatedly hit the sandy floor and felt something tear, though the pain that radiated from each and every one of his scales prevented him from determining the exact source of the injury. When she was done slinging him around like a ragdoll, she chucked him into the nearest wall with a resounding  _ crack. _ He managed to avoid the claw that came swiping out at him following her attack, but not the burst of fire that hit him square in the shoulder while he tried to scurry away. Permafrost bit back a yelp and put as much distance between himself and his SkyWing adversary as he could before observing the damage. An angry red hole had been seared into his flesh, as large as a boulder. The leg itself was useless, and would remain dysfunctional until Permafrost could get it properly healed. Even then, he was sure that it would leave a large and very telling scar. 

“Had enough?” She cackled from a few feet away, her swagger in full force after regaining the upper claw. Permafrost’s blue eyes began searching for a way out and, once again, his eyes landed on the prince. Peculiarly, the imposing SkyWing looked like a mere dragonet, wings cast over his eyes to prevent him from seeing the fight below. No one else on the podium seemed to notice; They were much too focused on what was happening between their SkyWing and the Icewing challenger. But Permafrost saw, and knew then that the prince didn’t want him to die. 

Something about the sentiment filled Permafrost with an unfamiliar burst of energy, like new life had been breathed into him from some mysterious source. He propelled himself forward, which seemed to catch both him and his opponent by surprise, and sucked in a breath of air as he felt frost building within his chest. And then, before the two of them could collide, he launched himself to the left. She had obviously been predicting him to attack her blind side, and was wholly and ironically unprepared when he targeted the strongest side of her body. A hush fell over the gathered dragons in the split second that passed between the moment Permafrost’s feet hit the ground and the instant his Frostbreath hit her body. As she came crashing to the ground, her supporters seemed to be holding their breath once again, but for an entirely different reason this time. Permafrost himself was holding his breath, hoping that he had done enough damage to keep her grounded. As confident as he was in his combat capabilities, the wounds he had received from her fire and from her claws were beginning to ache and his stamina was at an all-time low. 

For a second, Permafrost thought that he had won the fight. Then that second ticked by, and his Skywing competitor stubbornly hauled herself off the ground. They were both in bad shape, but the threat of a painful death loomed over their heads and kept them on their feet. Permafrost was getting ready to let out another blast of icy air in her direction when she spoke, a low grumble that was clearly only meant for his ears.

“So, you figured it out, huh? You’re smarter than I gave you credit for, IceWing.”

Permafrost stayed low to the ground, his muscles bunched and ready to spring into action at any indication of movement from her. 

“It’s been a long time since I met someone worthy enough to use all my energy on. And since you don’t have a blind spot…” A deep rumbling started in her chest and filled the air around them with a buzz of tension. “I’ll just have to make one!!” Dragging herself onto her hind legs, she opened her maw as wide as it could go and unleashed a catastrophic inferno of flames directed entirely at Permafrost’s face. He tried to move out of the way, but his limbs weren’t responding as quickly as they had been before. He felt like he was moving in slow-motion when the fire struck him, and all he managed to do to circumvent the searing heat was turn his head away and dive to the ground. He tried to open his eyes, but found that he couldn’t. The sounds of battle drifted in and out of his ears, as if he was hearing everything happen in the distance.  _ Why won’t they open? _ No matter how hard Permafrost tried, all he could feel was blistering agony and all he could see was red. 

Apex looked down on the fallen IceWing, desperately scratching at the ragged burns that now marred the delicate scales of his face. He saw his champion--No, his  _ family’s _ champion--strutting towards him like the proud predator that she was, her steps unhurried because her prey was subdued. The game of cat and mouse was over, and for an added dash of cruelty, she was prolonging her victim’s suffering. Apex felt sick.  _ This isn’t an execution, _ the thought came unbidden to his mind.  _ This is torture. _ Before the rational part of his brain had time to stop him, Apex had lept to the crest of the platform, his fiery golden scales reflecting the sunlight and catching the attention of over half the dragons below. Those that weren’t watching soon stopped their chanting, because a low warning growl was now issuing from deep within Apex’s throat. It echoed throughout the arena and washed over the legions of dragons in the stands, making some bow in deference and others to glance in his direction with confusion written plainly across their faces. It wasn’t enough. The champion, Whirlwind, was too intent on her next kill to pay him any heed. She raised her bloody talons towards the sky, oblivious to the silence of the arena, and swiftly brought them down for the killing blow to her opponent’s neck--

They stopped a mere centimeter away from piercing the Icewing’s lavender scales and hovered there as Whirlwind snapped her head towards the torrent of fire on the balcony, and the prince at the source of it. He let the fire out in waves; a beautiful, bright, brilliant blaze surged from his mouth and into the sky, silencing even the chirping of the birds nearby. He now held every eye in the arena, and felt a white-hot shame wash over him in waves when his flames died down. If his scales could change color like a RainWing’s, he was relatively certain that he’d be a brighter shade of crimson than the bombardment of sparks he had just rained on the dragons closest to him. But underneath all of that was pride; Pride, and a righteousness that vigorously burned in his heart and told him that his actions were justified. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder if a quick death would have been more merciful than what he was about to do. 

“Stop the fight, Whirlwind! This is madness! He is incapacitated. You’ve won.” 

Smoke poured from the corner of Whirlwind’s mouth, and glowing pools of molten embers fluttered to the ground when she spoke. “I haven’t won until he’s dead. Those are the rules.”

“And who makes the rules?” He responded haughtily, taking some small amount of satisfaction in looking down his nose at her. He had never liked their champion, addicted as she was to brutality and power. 

She stomped her foot on the ground, clearly frustrated. “I suppose that would be the royal family, My Prince. But this is tradition we’re talking about. And tradition--”

“Can be changed,” he finished calmly. She opened her mouth to protest, but never got the chance. “Guards, escort Whirlwind back to her room. Take the IceWing to the medical ward, and see to it that he receives the proper treatment for his wounds.” 

“What are you doing?” Condor hissed in his ear. “The fight wasn’t over. The prisoner is still alive.” 

“And I intend to keep it that way.”

“Apex--”

“Have you taken leave of your senses?!” Queen Pyre screeched from behind him. “This is not up for debate! You can’t just interrupt a timeless tradition because of a twisted obsession with your would-be killer!” 

Apex held his ground against her jabs and judgement. “I just did.” They stared into each others’ eyes; amber clashing with yellow, both attempting to wrest power away from the other. 

Finally, she turned her eyes away with a  _ harrumph, _ and Apex knew that he had won. “Well… I’m not guiding it around like a lost puppy, and it will not receive any food from the kitchens.” 

“That will not be necessary,” Apex replied smoothly, “as I will hunt for him, and once he is recovered, I will keep him in my chambers. Did you really think that I expected you to help me with this?” He rounded on his mother, startling her with the impassioned fire that burned behind his slitted pupils. “You call my empathy 'twisted’, Mother? You refer to it as an obsession? Then, pray tell, what do you call your desire to see heads roll? Insanity? Because that’s what I call it. You scream at me for showing mercy, but all I hear a poorly disguised lust for blood and gore. Your psychopath is showing, Mother, and it is ugly.” 

  
Leaving his family in stunned silence, Apex swept down the tunnel towards the palace, already imagining the millions of ways that his outburst would come back to bite him in the rear. But for now, he had bigger problems to worry about. He had just accepted the responsibility of caring for a dragon with irreparable eyesight and crippling injuries, one that had recently tried to wipe Apex from the face of the earth. The ironic insanity of the situation didn’t escape him. His new IceWing pet (glorified personal prisoner, really) would need to be taught everything from scratch and would likely need to be confined to the prince’s chambers at all times. Apex supposed that the private peace of his sanctuary would have to be sacrificed for the price of keeping his conscience clear. And, now that he thought about it, he was beginning to realize how ridiculous it sounded.  _ What have I done…? _ After what he had said and done, there was no going back. A part of him cursed himself for trying to play hero, when the IceWing clearly didn’t deserve or want his help. But a small fragment of him, a voice barely above a whisper, told him that he had done the right thing. And as long as that voice was present, even if it wasn’t near as loud as every voice telling him that this was a fool’s errand, he would listen. 


	5. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! School and college stuff is keeping me pretty busy, sorry for irregular updates!

“Calm down, Apex. Your pacing is giving me a headache.”

Condor watched her brother wear tracks into the stone floor of her bedroom with a good deal of exasperation. She was worried, of course, but the feeling was overshadowed by a deep desire to  _ go to bed already.  _ Almost any sister would be happy to know that their sibling could come to them in a time of crisis, but this was bordering ridiculous! Apex had been haunting her room for the past two weeks, practically biting his own claws off over a stranger than had tried to murder him! Condor didn’t see why he was so upset, but then again, there were a lot of things about her brother that she would never understand. Still, she welcomed him with open arms and listened to his insane ramblings on a daily basis, usually after the work of the day had been completed and they were both free to relax. These nightly sessions had been steadily eating away at Condor’s leisure time and making her as irritable as a… well, as a SkyWing. She wished that he would either get over this stupid obsession or that the IceWing woke up soon, because any more of this and she might kill Apex  _ herself.  _

“Sorry.” He sat down with a heavy thud. “I just can’t stop thinking about it. I mean, do IceWings sleep super long? Are they like polar bears? Do polar bears hibernate, or just regular bears? Do you think--?”

“I  _ think,”  _ she cut in with a sharp-edged grumble, “that you should get some sleep. You look awful. Like a MudWing dragged you through the marshes and then threw you off the nearest cliff.” Okay, maybe she was exaggerating, but she wasn’t lying when she said he needed sleep. He was visibly slowing down, which showed weakness within the royal family and left them vulnerable to scrutiny. But first and foremost, she worried about his health.

His tail began to rhythmically tap against the floor, starting at a meere twitch and progressing into a full-fledged thwacking. “I look awful?  _ I  _ look awful?? What about the IceWing we almost killed? He lost--!”

“Yes, yes,” She sleepily murmured around a yawn, “We know. IceWing this and IceWing that and what about the IceWing? Permafrost, Permafrost, Permafrost. Would you stop beating up my floor? I know you feel like fighting something right now, but the ground is not your enemy.”

The tail stopped in its tracks and lowered abruptly to curl around his front talons. “I know,” He said miserably. “It’s just… I think he’s really hurt. And it’s my fault. And before you ask, I can’t explain why I feel so attached to him! It’s so… so frustrating!”

She sat down across from him and leaned forward, peering into his golden eyes. “Well, sitting around here and slowly wasting away certainly isn’t doing him any good. Take a break, Apex. You’ll feel better after a nap.” 

His eyes stayed glued to the floor. At first, she mistook this as silent acknowledgment that she was right and felt a flutter of pleasure in her chest that he had finally come to his senses.  _ Sweet, blissful sleep… Here I come!  _ No sooner had the thought entered her head when it was brutally murdered by the shimmer in Apex’s eyes when he looked up. “Apex, I don’t like that look.”

“No, Condor! Don’t you see it? You’re right!”

“Apex--” She warned.

“I’m not doing any good just standing around, moping!”

“Listen, whatever pigheaded plan you’ve got--”

“Thanks for the advice!” In a flash of gold and a flurry of wings, Apex scuttled out the door and disappeared down the hallway. He was like a fireball, unable to be extinguished or otherwise contained. 

She inwardly sighed. “What have I done…?”

~

The royal medics ignored the prince. Apex appreciated the solitude, and was equally impressed with the way they went about their work as though nothing had changed between the moment he had walked in and before then. It allowed him to direct his attention towards the IceWing, who lay separated from the other wounded dragons in a cave off of the main one. While he was covered in chains, it hardly seemed necessary to restrain a blind, injured, comatose dragon. But that had been the condition for healing him, and if a bit of metal was the cost for saving his life, Apex was willing to allow it.  _ Besides,  _ he thought as he eyed Permafrost’s dormant form,  _ he certainly doesn’t mind.  _

He was vaguely aware of a cramping in his wings, but he didn’t pay it much heed. He was too intent on monitoring his undersized prisoner. He felt strangely possessive and protective of the helpless creature, and it honestly scared him. He had never cared about something this much before; Or, perhaps he had and had just never noticed it before. He tried to think back on every significant thing that’s happened to him, and if he had even felt a flicker of the blaze that burned brightly against his mind whenever he saw Permafrost’s lavender scales shine in the lambent torchlight. The color was somehow dull and beautifully colorful at the same time, like a muted rainbow. They glistened like they were defrosting, and a bead of water rolled across them to the cave floor with every shuddering breath. His face half-hidden in shadows, but from what Apex could see, the IceWing’s face was in ruins. The features had largely been burned away, leaving disfiguring scars twisting across his muzzle and obliterating his eyes. Part of his mouth had been burned away, leaving Permafrost with a permanent scowl. The rest of him had been spared, with the exception of a few jagged scars winding their way across his torso and tail, but he would forever be seen as hideous. Apex would like to think that karma had brought what was inside the assassin’s cruel heart to the surface, but truthfully… he knew next to nothing about this IceWing. He couldn’t find it in himself to hate him. 

Maybe he was weak. His mother would certainly think so, as well as most of the SkyWing court. But if being open-minded made Apex soft, then so be it. He couldn’t see what was so superior about the alternative--violence, hatred, and life-long grudges that severely stunted emotional growth. His father had always told Apex that he was not born to be a SkyWing, but the prince had never understood the gravity of those words until he was expected to behave as such. When Apex was a dragonet, the heaviest burden that weighed on his mind was whether he or Condor would get the biggest slice of mutton at dinner, and even then, it was friendly competition. Apex had never wholeheartedly longed for anything in his life--his childhood was a free-spirited one in which he allowed himself to be honest and vulnerable. Perhaps that’s why he felt the need to protect this IceWing. Permafrost had made him feel like a little dragon again, frolicking in the valleys and tumbling with friends who didn’t care whether he was royalty or just some common peasant. 

He snapped back to attention when Permafrost’s ear gave a little twitch. His left ear had escaped the majority of the damage, but almost nothing was left where his right ear had been. The healers were fairly confident that he could still hear out of both of them, but nothing could be confirmed while the IceWing was under. Apex’s tongue flicked over his teeth: It was a bit of a nervous habit for him.  _ At the very least,  _ he consoled himself,  _ he’s not hanging on the brink of death. He just refuses to wake up.  _ The thought was almost enough to make Apex laugh. Even when severely injured, this IceWing was as one of those big-eared creatures that humans seemed so keen on imprisoning. It was refreshing to know that this quiet resilience didn’t come from the will to survive, but rather, a blatant refusal to look death in the eyes. Or, at least, that was the thought that Apex humored himself with in an attempt to calm down. It was an amusing image; Permafrost literally turning his back on fate, like he had done to Apex when the prince had visited him. 

Condor had told him that he was being a useless lump of scales while he was hanging around her like a rain cloud, but he didn’t feel any more helpful here. He only seemed to take up space wherever he went, but it wasn’t like he could just do  _ nothing.  _ The IceWing prisoner was his responsibility now, and he took his responsibilities very seriously. While he didn’t know what he would do after Permafrost woke up, he nevertheless wanted to be one of the first dragons to witness it. He wished he could explain his own actions--It would make it easier to face his family. 

Speaking of the devil, the little IceWing was beginning to stir under Apex’s claws. The prince hadn’t even realized that he was touching Permafrost, but as he looked down at the sleeping dragon, he realized that he was practically digging his claws into those soft-looking lavender scales. That was certainly counterproductive to the recovery process, so Apex made an effort to extract his talons as quickly as possible without drawing blood. His excitement was overlaid by dread creeping up the back of his throat as he imagined the assassin’s confusion. The world, to him, would be nothing more than darkness and excruciating pain as the slashes stretched with every movement. Not for the first time, Apex couldn’t help but wonder if keeping him alive had been showing mercy or denying him peace. Not that it mattered. The decision was made, and Permafrost’s fate had been sealed. Besides, Apex had a few questions for him. The SkyWing prince doubted that the answers had changed between the time he had first interrogated Permafrost and now, but he could give it a shot. 

The miniature mercenary let out a rumbling groan that resounded against the cramped walls of their cave. Apex let his regal mask fall back into place and puffed out his chest, then reminded himself that Permafrost couldn’t even see him so it didn’t really matter. Tone of voice would be the thing driving this conversation, so Apex sucked in a deep breath and prepared to launch into a presumptuous speech that clearly defined his superiority over the Icewing--

\--and let it all out in a  _ woosh,  _ like it had been driven from his lungs, at the pitiful mewl that the assassin let out. Apex didn’t know what to do. He was awake, which was exactly what the prince had wanted, but now he wanted the distressed dragon to go back to sleep. Call Apex a bleeding heart, but it was devastating to watch the tiny dragon swing his head around in dismay. He was visibly confused and frightened, like a dragonet separated from its mother. Apex wanted to comfort him somehow, but had no idea what to do. He didn’t know if anything  _ could  _ console a dragon who had just discovered that, not only were they in an immeasurable amount of discomfort, they had also lost the ability to observe their surroundings. Permafrost was most likely being assaulted with the unfamiliar sounds of cave echoes and the smell of strong medicinal herbs. Apex hadn’t thought it possible to feel  _ more  _ useless than he already did, but those whimpers damn near shattered him. 

“Sh,” he soothed. For all the good it did, he might as well have just left the room. Medics rushed in, calming Permafrost down so that his screeching became more of a keening, and even that died down into an unsettling silence. 

“Can you talk?” One of the medics, a dragon of a pinkish hue, pulled on his tattered wing as if he was nothing more than a specimen to be examined. Permafrost yelped, snatched his wing away, and spoke in a voice hoarse with disuse. 

“Yes, and I can feel too!” He snapped, seemingly recovered from his momentary lapse in callousness. “And hear, and taste, and smell! The only thing I  _ can’t  _ do is see! What the hell did you sick imbeciles do to me?”

It was Apex who stepped forward, having regained some of his bravado. “ _ They  _ didn’t do anything. In fact, you wouldn’t even be alive if it weren’t for these wonderful dragons. I demand that you apologize right this--”

“Oh, you  _ demand, _ ” Permafrost taunted. “Or what? You’ll make me fight to the death? Blind me? Come on, pretty-boy, tell me exactly what you’ll do that you haven’t ALREADY DONE!!” He roared the last bit, and if he had been just a little colder, Apex was sure he would have sprayed Frostbreath all over the wall above his head. 

And… he had a point. “Fine. Don’t apologize. But don’t expect them to nurse you back to health next time.”

“Next time?! NEXT TIME?!” Okay, so Permafrost was a little upset. Understandably. It was fine, Apex could handle a bit of shouting. Nothing he hadn’t faced from enemies before. And Permafrost  _ was  _ still an enemy. Right? The lines were becoming very blurred, and it was probably Apex’s fault. “I DIDN’T ASK TO BE SAVED IN THE FIRST PLACE!!”

He didn’t even have a comeback to counter that one. In all honesty, Permafrost had actually  _ specifically  _ requested to be killed. “Well,” Apex finally said, “consider this your punishment, then. For trying to take my life, I’m forcing you to continue yours.” 

Permafrost’s mouth snapped open and closed, unable to form words in his fury. The IceWing let it sink back into his chest and spread like frostbite, darkening his heart and cutting away the circulation. Staring at the wall in silent resilience, he brooded. Sensing that his big wings were just getting in the way--and, more importantly, his desire to secure the IceWings mind was thoroughly sated--he backed out of the dim cave and into the hallway. Exhaustion tugged at his aching limbs, sore from being pent up in one position for hours on end. He judged that he’d have a few hours to rest before his duties officially began, and thank goodness for that. Apex would have probably fallen asleep at the dias, had he neglected to sleep any longer. Now, the thought of sinking into his soft nest of feathers and lichen carried his feet away from the medicinal cave, into his room, and onto the bed, where he flopped down and didn’t move until the sun had risen above the mountaintops. 


	6. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is mostly dialogue based, and kind of short. The next one will be slightly longer, I promise! Enjoy!

Apex was roaring at him. Again. Honestly, Permafrost couldn’t care less. Something about “applying himself.” It was the same routine every week, but the fact that he never seemed to improve didn’t dishearten the prince as Permafrost hoped it would. In fact, it only seemed to invigorate the infuriatingly optimistic SkyWing.  _ This is more painful than death,  _ he inwardly groaned. It had him wishing that he was back in the arena, facing off against the pinkish SkyWing and her fireballs. The same fireballs that had made a ruin of his face, if Apex was to be believed. Permafrost wouldn’t know, because he  _ couldn’t see.  _ Though, perhaps that was a good thing. Perhaps he didn’t want to see. His attention snapped back to Apex’s so-called “training” when claws closed around his tail. 

“You have a nasty habit of grabbing that,” the prickly IceWing growled out past clenched teeth. “Do it again, and you might lose a talon.” 

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Fool. He had the audacity to be excited. “Passion! Spark! Fire! Or, I guess in your case, ice. Come on, try it again.” 

Permafrost lacked the patience to go through this tedious drill again. “Why? So I can kill you faster? Tell me, what _exactly_ hinges on my recovery that you seem so infatuated by my progress?” He tried to inject as much venom as possible into his words. 

“I just want to see you back on your feet, not moping around like a sack of mud!” Apex must have felt the IceWing’s scrutiny. “... and I may or may not have made a bet with my sister. Hehe.”

“Okay,” Permafrost floundered, trying to get a grasp on the situation, “first off, who puts mud in a sack? Second off, you think that a bet is appropriate in this situation? I wouldn’t even have to recover, if it wasn’t for you!” 

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t have even met you if you hadn’t tried to kill me!” Apex fired back with a contemptuous snort. 

“I wouldn’t have tried to kill you if your lot hadn’t killed the IceWing messenger!”

“We wouldn’t have killed the messenger if you IceWings hadn’t gone and frozen those dragons!”

“And we wouldn’t have had to freeze those dragons--!” For once, Permafrost seemed at a loss for words. Apex was celebrating his victory, until he noticed the confused crease of Permafrost’s brow. “What dragons?” 

“What do you mean-the dragons! The-The frozen ones! That you left on our doorstep.” Something was wrong here. Apex could feel it. Still, he wasn’t about to back down.

“That… wasn’t the IceWing kingdom.” Before the SkyWing prince could argue, Permafrost cut him off. He almost felt angry, until he remembered that the IceWing literally couldn’t see that he had rudely interrupted Apex. “I mean, why would we openly attack the Sky Kingdom? That would only cause chaos. Did… did no one consider any other possibility?” 

Of course they had! Or, er… Apex wished he could say that. Thinking back, they  _ had  _ just assumed that it was Queen Holly who had ordered the assault, and wrote off the reason as a declaration of war. Rather, his mother and her advisors had decided that it was a threat, and her word was law in the Sky Kingdom. And what else could it have been besides a message of hostility? No one questioned her back then, but now… now her story was beginning to unravel. Details fell out of their proper place, and Apex couldn’t help but wonder why he had never asked himself these questions before today. Had he been so eager for war, for a chance to prove himself in combat, that it had clouded his logic? 

“I guess we didn’t,” he replied truthfully. “To be honest, I think my mother might have been looking for reasons to hate all of you. To make the realm hate all of you.” 

“We have a genius on our hands,” Permafrost muttered under his breath. Apex was sure that if he still had eyes, they would be rolling right now. 

“Hey!” He exclaimed, defensive. “Look, I was young and stupid when it happened! I never questioned her, I kinda just assumed that she always knew what she was talking about.” 

“Yeah, I was young once too. But I was  _ never  _ stupid enough to unquestioningly follow where I was led, like a lost sheep!”

And back to arguing it was. “Oh, is that right? And I suppose you chose to be sicced on random dragons like some rabid animal?”

Permafrost stomped his foot and roared, effectively silencing Apex. “OF COURSE NOT! I DIDN’T HAVE A CHOICE, NONE OF US DID!! WHY WOULD ANYONE CHOOSE TO LIVE LIKE AN OUTLAW, FEEDING ON THE SCRAPS OF THOSE ABOVE US?!”

Apex sat onto his rump from the sheer shock of being yelled at by a glacial gremlin about half his size. No one had talked to him like that in--well, ever. No one besides his mother, Queen Pyre. Though, it wasn’t exactly news that the IceWing wasn’t afraid of the SkyWing prince. Accordingly, it wasn’t the tone that shocked him into silence so much as the words themselves. He had never really thought about it, but the life of an assassin probably wasn’t really glamorous. Hiding in the darkness, never allowed to make significant relationships, being ordered to kill for the sake of others… It wasn’t a life that anyone would want, let alone choose. 

“I… I’m sorry. I guess I just never thought about it,” He replied sullenly. 

“Yeah, you don’t think about many things, do you?” This little IceWing was infuriatingly stubborn! Here Apex was, humbly making a formal apology, and all he had to do was accept it! Then again…  _ Maybe I don’t deserve to be forgiven.  _

“You know what? I’m trying to be nice to you. I’m trying to extend an olive branch, but you refuse to take it!”

“Well, maybe I’m not taking it because I can’t  _ see  _ it,” Permafrost seethed. 

“Would you stop with that?! I get it, you’re blind!”

“Are you kidding me--”

“Girls, girls, you’re both adorable, stop bickering.” Condor strutted into the training room in all her regal glory, bedecked in jewels and the delicate wildflowers that covered the grassy slopes. “You know, you two fight like an old couple. It’s amusing, until I hear it from dawn to dusk while desperately trying to run a kingdom. I think you both need to start considering each other’s perspective, or you’ll never get along.” She plopped herself right next to Permafrost, fearless as she was. 

Apex broke the following silence. “I am not--”

“Rephrase!” Condor howled at the top of her lungs. “You will cease your squabbling, or I will have you both sent to the bottom of the mountain to collect goat dung to fertilize my garden!!” 

That certainly silenced all further protests, The two boys had the decency to look scolded, with hanging heads and hunched shoulders. Condor clapped her claws together, satisfied with their newfound silence. The two were like little fur-beasts, she thought, that needed to be taught how to behave. It really was ironic; She was forced to mediate between them whenever an argument such as this broke out, and she hadn’t been the one to save the blind bimbo in the first place! It wasn’t her mess, and yet here she was, cleaning it up day after day after day. The routine had frayed her nerves to the point of splitting, and she worried that she would go mad. And while SkyWing queens already had a history of teetering off the deep end, she wasn’t exactly eager to be just another crazed monarch in a history scroll. That was precisely when the idea hit her. 

“You know what I think would be wonderful?” Condor masked her intentions behind a layer of sickly sweet inflection. 

“What?” The IceWing, Permafrost, spoke sullenly. 

“I think you two should have a little adventure together!” She exclaimed in false-cheeriness. A devious plot was constructing itself in her mind, one that would get these two numbskulls out of her scales for at least a couple weeks. 

“Hey, you said that if we stopped arguing, you  _ wouldn’t  _ send us to collect dung,” Apex protested, petulantly. 

“Oh, no, not that.” She waved a claw at them in dismissal, as though she had already forgotten about her threat. “This is something else. It’ll be loads of fun, I promise.” 

“Fun? Remember that time when we were dragonets, and you told me that it would be fun to jump off the mountain and into a pile of snow at the base? Yeah, my wing still doesn’t close right.” Apex flexed his wing for emphasis, and Condor noticed that he wasn’t lying about it being subtly twisted. “So forgive me if I don’t exactly trust your idea of ‘fun’” 

“Oh, this one will be  _ very  _ exciting. And you  _ probably  _ won’t get injured.” From within the folds of her wings, she produced a small metal tube. Made from solid gold, it gleamed in the weak sunlight that filtered through the nearest window. Within was, undoubtedly, a scroll. “Would you two be so kind as to fly this over to the MudWing kingdom? I have an urgent message for Queen Copperhead, and I simply do not trust those messenger dragons. You cannot convince me that they aren’t the ones who started the drama between Flare and Crest, back when word got out that Flare was sending love letters to Crest’s suitor.”

Permafrost had wandered to the opposite end of the cave, but Condor knew he was paying attention. The way that he stood by the hole in the cavern wall, waiting to catch a breeze blowing in, seemed wistful. Condor leaned forward until her and her brother’s snout were practically touching, and in her best guilt-tripping voice, she whispered, “Look at him. He wants to go outside.” 

“Yes, outside. But to the Mud Kingdom?” He whispered back vehemently, nose crinkled up in objection. “He can’t even fly. If he had the ability to see, he’s still too injured to walk correctly!”

“Then carry him,” she contended with a hiss. “Look at how small he is. Perfect carrying size, he’s like an accessory. A very pretty, purple, shimmery accessory. You can sling him over your big, strong shoulders. You brag about your muscles all the time, himbo. Use them.”   
  


“Him-what? Don’t answer, I probably don’t want to know. If something were to happen to us while in the Mud Kingdom--”

“I would be perfectly fine,” Permafrost drawled from behind them. Both prince and princess jumped at the silent approach and sudden intrusion. “I can handle myself, Apex. And if you two are going to gossip about me, at least do it when I’m not in the room.” He sat on his sparkly rump and brought a talon up to scratch behind his ear. The motion was awkward, as the loss of his sight had greatly affected his claw-eye coordination. 

“See?” Condor recovered from her shock and bumped Apex with her shoulder. “He says he can handle himself!”

“He says a lot of things,” Apex muttered. But, as she knew he would, he finally conceded. “Fiiiiine.” He snatched the golden tube from her hand and stuffed it under his wing for safe keeping. “But don’t expect me to stick around for a reply. I don’t want to stay in the Mudwing Kingdom for longer than I have to.”

“Now that,” Permafrost allowed, “is something we can agree on.”

Pleased with her brilliant manipulation--erm, rather, her tactful mediation--Condor spun around on her heels and practically danced away. She had two weeks to herself, finally! And her first order of business would be catching up on all the sweet, sweet slumber that had been evading her since Apex had adopted his new pet. With a dark chuckle at the thought of Apex being forced to sleep in the mud while she slept soundly on her own bed of moss and feathers, Condor sped back to her room like the overly energetic dragonet she once was. 


	7. Chapter Six

“This is all just a huge misunderstanding!!” Apex’s feet pounded against the marshy ground, scrambling to find purchase in the loose rocks and soil. “We weren’t trying to steal anything!!”

The queen’s guards were on his tail, driving him away from the MudWing castle and, most importantly, Permafrost. Spears hung heavy in their jaws, the tips of which grazed against Apex’s scales with every forward stride.  _ How do MudWings run so fast?! They’re all built like boulders! Big, heavy, stupid-- _ ”Gah!!” That particular train of thought abruptly went down in flames when he ran smack-dab into the massive chest of Queen Copperhead. Well. Life was fun while it lasted. 

But, wait. How did Apex end up abandoning his prized IceWing and running for his life from the leader of the MudWing tribe? Well, as previously mentioned, it all stemmed from a giant misunderstanding. To understand how this kerfuffle began, however, one would need to look further back in time to see the events that took place beforehand. More specifically, when Permafrost and Apex had arrived in the mud flats and set out towards Queen Copperhead’s humble abode. 

~

“Why are you so heavy?” Apex griped, beating at the air with his wings just to stay aloft. “I’m putting you on a diet when we get back.”

“What was that?” Permafrost draped himself out against Apex’s back, tongue poking out from between his teeth in contentment. 

“I said--”

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you. I’m blind.”

“You know, one of these days you’re going to have to stop using your blindness as an excuse for--Hey!! That’s not how it works!” 

“You got me. Detective dragon strikes again. I just can’t trick you, can I?”

Apex got the distinct feeling that he was being mocked. He waited for a particularly powerful gust of wind to flow past his ears, and then tilted his wings so as to make them lift upwards at an alarmingly fast rate. Permafrost, alarmed by their swift ascent, clutched onto Apex’s neck desperately. 

“You idiot!” He roared past the howling of the wind in their ears. “I could have fallen!”

But Apex was too busy laughing to pay him any heed. Perhaps their relationship was antagonistic to an extent, but Apex knew that Permafrost wasn’t  _ really  _ mad. After all, his IceWing counterpart had every opportunity to open up his neck right here, right now. Of course, he would go down with Apex, but Permafrost had already proven himself willing and capable of dying for his queen. 

“In my defense, I needed to catch an updraft. If I kept flapping like that the whole way there, I would have gone into cardiac arrest the moment we landed.” 

“Ohhhh nooooo,” Permafrost drawled sarcastically. “That’s awful. Well, by all means, do whatever you need to do. Wouldn’t want you dying on me.” 

“Oh, har har. You know, you don’t have to remind me that you want me dead every five minutes,” Apex snapped back. 

“I know. Trust me, I know.”

Apex snorted and continued flying in silence: Arguing with him was pointless. Instead, he focused on making Permafrost’s ride as bumpy as possible. To his credit, the prickly IceWing didn’t utter a word of complaint. Then again, halfway through the journey, Apex could feel his icy spikes being driven into the prince’s shoulder blades, hard enough to bruise but not to bleed. Henceforth, the journey was one based on mutual discomfort and frigid silence. Eventually, Apex decided that the two of them were in dire need of a break. He landed on a rocky outcropping jutting out from a grassy hill. It didn’t provide any shelter from the sun beating on their scales, which must have been uncomfortable for an IceWing accustomed to subzero temperatures.  _ Good,  _ Apex thought indignantly. He shook Permafrost off, ignoring his protests and settling down for a nice nap. 

“Hey! Where are we? Apex?” Permafrost wandered around the rock blindly, patting the ground directly in front of him in an effort to better identify his surroundings. “Are we--Is this a rock? Apex? Answer me!”

The SkyWing prince just rolled over, trying to block out Permafrost’s snippity comments. 

“I swear, I will bite you when I find you!” He walked in a full circle around Apex, his lavender ear pressed firmly against his head.  _ If he listened to my breathing, he’d know exactly where I was. He isn’t very good at being blind, is he? _

__ “Apex! Where--” Permafrost broke off, his breath coming out in shallow gasps. “Did you… leave me…? I c-can’t… I can’t see... “

Apex popped his head up at the change in tone, just to see Permafrost sitting a few feet away, his jaw wide open as he desperately tried to force air into his deprived lungs. His chest wasn’t moving, like he physically couldn’t breathe, and a primitive whimper tore through his throat. His serrated claws dug into the rock, leaving large scars in the smooth grey surface.  _ Something’s wrong,  _ Apex thought, alarmed. He pushed himself to his feet and ran to Permafrost, his claw hovering hesitantly over his prisoner’s wing. He wasn’t sure whether or not to touch him, if it would just freak him out more. And if making contact would help Permafrost calm down, where should he nudge him? Apex felt like a big, clumsy beast. 

“Hey, Permafrost? It’s okay, bud, I didn’t leave! I’m here, I was just going to take a nap! I promise, I wouldn’t leave you like that. I’m not  _ that  _ cruel.” He chuckled weakly, but it didn’t seem to help. Permafrost was still hyperventilating, and he was beginning to look like he’d fall over if a strong wind hit him at the right angle. “Hey, seriously, look at me. I mean… don’t look at me--Oh my Phyrria, I need to shut up. Okay, uh.. Screw it!” He reached out and soothingly ran a talon down Permafrost’s wings, which used to soothe him as a dragonet. “Hush… You might not be able to see me, but you can hear me and you can feel me. I am  _ here,  _ Permafrost. Right by your side. And I don’t plan on leaving. Nothing is going to tear me away from you, I promise.”

Thank the stars, that seemed to calm the panicked IceWing down, if only marginally. He began taking breaths that were slightly less shallow, and a lot less pained. Still, he didn’t speak. What’s more, Apex didn’t expect him to. He had never experienced such a violent bout of panic, but the prince could sympathize with his pitiful companion. Not being able to see must be terrifying, more so if it’s an ability you’ve had all your life. And to be constantly surrounded by your sworn enemies? For all his bravado and aloofness, Permafrost was probably scared out of his scales with every little thing that was out of the ordinary or unexpected. Apex resolved not to scare him like that again, even if it meant feeding into the little assassin’s feisty attitude. 

“Okay,” Apex breathed out, “that sucked. I won’t scare you like that again, okay? This has been hard on you, I know. And I’m only making it worse by being a stuck-up jerk all the time. That doesn’t mean you get to be a bullheaded gremlin all the time, but just because you’re rude to me doesn’t give me the right to be rude back. I’m sorry. Forgive me?”

Permafrost was quiet for some time before responding. “Are you keeping me alive just to kill me later…? Or is it fun to see me suffer?”

The SkyWing prince was taken aback. He hated the way that his bleeding heart conflicted with his heated temperament; It made him a mess of mixed emotions. “Is that what you think I’m doing?” He slid his claw off of Permafrost’s back, letting it slump to the stone floor. “No. Of course not, Permafrost. I’m keeping you alive because…” Apex’s brow scrunched as he realized that he didn’t exactly know how to finish that sentence. “I guess I just… feel like I need to. Like fate’s telling me that you’re important. Do you believe in fate?”

“I  _ believe, _ ” Permafrost sniffled, “that you’re a great bumbling oaf who still has faith in fairytales.” 

Apex rolled his eyes, grateful for Permafrost’s cantankerous tendencies. “Glad to see that you’re back to normal.” 

“Normal? If I was back to normal, I’d have my eyes!!” He jabbed a talon towards his forehead, which made Apex snicker. He flicked the IceWing with his tail as he turned away. 

“You’re pointing to your forehead, idiot.”

“I thought you vowed to never be a jerk to me again.”

“That was when you were crying. Now, you’re fair game.”

“That wasn’t,” Permafrost sputtered indignantly. “I wasn’t crying!”

“Sure you weren’t.” His impertinence rubbed Permafrost’s scales the wrong way. He hissed in vexation and clambered onto Apex’s back. 

“Just--Shut up and fly. We’re going to be late because  _ someone  _ was too much of a baby to keep flying.”

“Babies cry,” Apex pointed out. “And  _ I’m  _ not the one who was bawling their eyes out. So who’s the baby now?”

“Jokes on you,” Permafrost huffed. “I don’t even  _ have  _ eyes, so I logically  _ couldn’t _ have been crying.” 

Apex, with a sharp-toothed grin, took off into the crystal blue sky. The world was beautiful from this high up, but Apex found that he wasn’t focusing on the atmosphere. He was too busy looking over his shoulder at the IceWing on his back, settled comfortably between his shoulder blades. 

~

By the time they arrived at the Mud Kingdom, the sun was hanging low in the sky. The sky itself was the color of a fire; Red bleeding into a vibrant orange, then settling into a soft yellow. It would be pretty, to someone who hasn't lived around those colors for the entirety of their life. As it were, Apex found himself loathing the vividly violent crimson and the painfully vibrant orange. The only color that he found holding his interest nowadays was a soft purple, just like… well, like the glittering scales of his new roommate/prisoner/pet. But it wasn’t  _ because of  _ Permafrost. That would just be ridiculous. It was just a pretty color. Soft, easy on the eyes, just colorful enough to be aesthetically pleasing… Yes, lavender was truly the pinnacle of perfection on the color spectrum. 

Even now, Apex was too busy admiring Permafrost’s scales to focus on where he was landing. Coincidentally, he ended up knee-deep in a giant puddle of sinisterly gurgling mud. Apex scowled as it squished between his toes, pulling himself out of the gloop that resisted his tugging. He looked half a MudWing himself by the time he dragged himself out of the muck. 

“Ick.. How do they live in this stuff?” Apex asked himself. Even though he was trying his hardest to be quiet, his words still reached Permafrost’s keen ears. The IceWing sleepily lifted his head, nose twitching. 

“Oh, are we here? It smells like decaying plants and filth…” 

“Yes. we’re here,” Apex replied fondly. “But make sure not to say what you just said in front of the MudWing court. They aren’t nearly as prideful as us, but they have a great deal of respect for Queen Copperhead. Insulting her land might be seen as an affront to her, and I have no doubt that her drones won’t hesitate to send us horns-first into the nearest mud puddle.” 

“Okay, just because I don’t have eyes doesn’t mean I don’t have a brain. Like any young IceWings, I was forced to undergo rigorous training on the subject of courtly behavior for every tribe in Phyrria.”

Apex figured the conversation led to a dead-end, so he stayed silent in the hopes that Permafrost would read that as a concession to his point. After what they had just gone through, Apex didn’t want to argue with him. Besides, the prince had heard tales of the IceWings’ focus on proper mannerisms, so he knew that Permafrost wasn’t just spouting nonsense. The only reason he had brought it up was because his irritable little IceWing friend didn’t seem to have any reservations about disrespecting other dragons. Or, perhaps it was just that Permafrost liked to treat Apex  _ himself  _ with contempt. Whatever the reason for his misbehavior, Apex wasn’t about to start yelling like a lunatic in the middle of a sludgy field. 

“So,” Permafrost interjected to fill the silence, “Which way do we go now? I mean, I’m sure you know the way to the queen’s home, but why didn’t we just land there in the first place? Why… wherever we are now?”

Apex was about to answer when a small dragon, a mere dragonet by the looks of it and wrapped from head to tail in rags to boot, came flying past them. The mystery dragonet dropped something that flashed golden in the sunlight, swung back around, and flew away. Too stunned to move, Apex just blinked at the brown dot on the horizon, drifting further and further away as the dragonet frantically flapped away from the duo. Then, slowly, his talons found the golden object--already sinking into the mud--and closed around it. He heaved it from the swampy earth with a grunt, perplexed when he gazed into its polished surface and saw his own reflection. It was a mirror, gilded with precious metals and embellished with gleaming jewels. He turned it over in his claws, examining the fine craftsmanship of the item. 

“What--” Before the question had left Apex’s mouth, his ears twitched in response to a sudden shout in the distance. 

“THIEF!!!”


	8. Chapter Seven

“Heeeeey,” Apex drawled out. “Listen, uhm… this is probably a bad time to bring this up, but I really have to use the bathroom.” The guards either didn’t hear him, or didn’t care. It was likely the latter. He tried again. “You know, my mother will be furious when she finds out you’ve wrongfully imprisoned me. SkyWings tend to have quite the temper, and Queen Pyre isn’t known to be lenient.” He was ignored again. Worse, even, they tossed him into a stinking cell full of moldy straw and mysterious brownish stains. Apex tried not to think about those too much. He scrambled to right himself and spin around, just to watch them slam the door shut in his face. Literally. It hit his snout so hard, he was afraid the force of it had broken something. A quick little rub with one of his talons told him that nothing had been fractured, but it  _ would  _ bruise, if the soreness that radiated from the point of impact was any indication. He flung himself against the bars, his wings drooping in dismay, and cried out to his jailers. 

“Please, you have to let me go! I’ll pay you back, whatever the goblet was worth! Twice! Triple! The SkyWing kingdom doesn’t lack for gold, I promise!” Finally, his pleas reached the ears of a nearby guard. Judging by the deep chuckle that rumbled from his throat, however, the reaction Apex received was not going to be the one he desired. 

“Oh, you’ll pay alright,” the MudWing grumbled in the rough accent of the moors. “With your life.”

But it wasn’t his own life that Apex was worried about. It was a certain feisty IceWing, prone to peevishness and discourtesy. Sensing that he wasn’t going to get much but growled threats and silence from these thick-headed thugs, he pivoted around and began pacing in his cell. His tail slithered against the ground as he walked, sending piles of musty fodder and hard-packed dust scattering out of it’s way. Apex tried his hardest to think logically about this situation: What did he know? Obviously, he had been framed for theft. Evidently, these pig-headed hooligans didn’t care whether or not he was royalty--this one made no sense, considering that Condor was one of Queen Copperhead’s closest companions. It was odd that she would treat him with such contempt, but he didn’t have time to dwell on that point. He had no idea what dark hole they had stuffed Permafrost in, or what his current status was. The little IceWing could be hurt, or worse, dead. A lump formed in Apex’s throat, and he shook it off. Getting emotional at this point in the game would only serve to cloud his rationality, and he would need every ounce of logic to worm his way out of this sticky situation. 

“Ugh.” With an aggrieved sigh, he plopped onto the ground in a giant heap of golden scales and despair. Some dragon was hissing something at another dragon, probably one of the guards harassing another prisoner. The hissing progressively got louder and, to his surprise, closer. Close enough to make out the words. 

“Hey. Get up. Come on, you lazy bumpkin, don’t you ever move? You’re worse than a Rainwing!” 

Slowly, cautiously, Apex stretched his neck upwards to see who was speaking. His yellow eyes met green ones, casually staring back at him. Letting his eyes adjust to the dim lighting, Apex saw that the green eyes belonged to a Seawing; A very green Seawing. Their wings and underbelly were a light aquamarine that blended nicely with the dark jade scales that carpeted their head and torso. Flecks of emerald were bejeweled across their muzzle, strewn like stars across the night sky. 

“What is a SeaWing doing in a MudWing prison?” The Kingdom of Sea and the Kingdom of Mud didn’t get along, sure, but this dragon looked to have been here for a long time: They were thin, and their scales--while beautiful--had been dulled down from the usual polish with which Seawing’s flaunted. 

“I think the more appropriate question is: Why is the SkyWing prince in a muddy cell? Admittedly, I don’t know much about you. Still, something tells me that you aren’t the type to be rebellious, or scandalous, or… fun.” A wrapped his seafoam-green talons around one of the many bars separating their respective prisons. 

“Well, you’re right about--Wait, did you just call me boring? I am not--!” Suddenly, Apex seemed to recall a similar conversation with a certain snippety IceWing. The thought of him was enough to take the wind out of Apex’s sails, and his head thunked back against the dirty straw. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter why I’m here.”

“Woah, okay, that got depressing really quick! What has made you so desolate, my golden roomie? Spare no detail, I have all the time in the world.” Apex shot a glare their way and gently laid his whip-thin tail over his snout. It didn’t do anything to block out the SeaWing, but maybe it would let them know that he wasn’t interested in talking. Unfortunately they seemed to be either ignorant of social cues, or else they didn’t care what codes of etiquette they were broaching. “Oh, don’t be like that. I’m sorry, do you have somewhere to be? Do I have to schedule an appointment with His Majesty? I beg your pardon, I am but a humble peasant--”

“Stop!! Just… stop.” Puffs of smoke drifted out of Apex’s nostrils and floated towards the ceiling in a hazy mist. “You might see this as a joke, but I don’t. Who are you, anyway?”

The SeaWing regarded Apex with a shrewd look, as though deciding whether to tell him the truth or not. He must have passed the green dragon’s test, because he spoke after a brief moment of contemplation. 

“Starfish. My name is Starfish.” Their viridian eyes seemed to burrow under his scales and see through every princely facade he had ever created for the sake of appearances. He shifted uncomfortably: This dragon was too similar with Permafrost for comfort. “There. I gave you information, now it’s time for you to give me some info.” 

“Like… what?  _ I  _ don’t even know how I wound up here. And you obviously already know who I am, so it won’t do any good to tell you that.” Apex let his tail slide off his snout so that he could see Starfish, and was surprised to see them pacing, deep in thought. “Are you listening--?”

“Ooo, I know! Tell me your favorite color. That’s always a wonderful indication of who a dragon is, and what they stand for.” 

“I’m getting really tired of being interrupted,” Apex grumbled. Still, he answered the proposed question. “It’s lavender. Like… A light purple.”

“I knew it. You SkyWings are all the same, obsessed with gold and rubies and--lavender?” They stopped their pacing, standing stock-still for a moment before swinging around to face Apex. “Did you say lavender?”

Now, the SkyWing was beginning to feel his patience wearing thin. “Yes, are you deaf? If you want to be a parrot, move to the rainforest. I’m sure some RainWing will be delighted to keep you as an exotic pet.”

“I’m just… surprised. Pleasantly surprised, to be sure… but you’ve obviously been exposed to outside influences. The prince doesn’t live in a bubble, does he?” Apex had a feeling his fellow inmate wasn’t talking to him, but if not him… then who? As far as the SkyWing could see, there was no one in the surrounding cages. He was beginning to feel like, perhaps, his acquaintance was a talon short of a full claw. 

“Uhm… no, I don’t live in a bubble. I live in the SkyWing palace.”

He couldn’t see how his response was comical, but it had the forest-green draggin practically rolling on the ground with laughter. “You--haha! You take things  _ way  _ too literally, my ferocious friend!” 

Apex watched them wheeze with growing exasperation. “Can you stop laughing for half a second? I can’t hear myself think. How have you not been executed yet? These MudWings,” he flicked his tail towards the sentries posted outside their kennels, “don’t exactly seem like the tolerant type.”

His blue-green counterpart took a few minutes to catch their breath before answering. “Oh, whew. You are a hoot. But, no, you’re right. I doubt they’d be willing to put up with me, were it not for the fact that I’m very important to the queen.” They puffed their seafoam-green chest out in Apex’s direction, but their expression was one of mock pride. “I am Queen Copperhead’s personal courtesan. It’s a very prestigious position, as you can tell from the premium straw coating the floor of my enclosure.”

Apex stared at this mysterious SeaWing in an entirely new light. “ _ You?”  _ He blurted out stupidly, his ears flicking back in shock.

“Aha! Look who’s the parrot now, Mr. Prince! Another point goes to Starfish!” They pranced around in an obscene show of joyousness. “But yes,” Starfish settled down a few feet from Apex, curling their feet underneath them. “Me. I know, I know, it’s shocking. Why doesn’t she just find a MudWing, right? Well… a long time ago, my father had a habit of making bets he couldn’t win. This habit developed into a debt, which demanded a favor. And that’s where I come in. Wouldn’t that be wonderful, my dear Princling? To grow up, being groomed to be nothing more than a way to pay off your forebearer’s debts?”

“Your father… gambled  _ you  _ to Queen Copperhead?” Apex was having a difficult time wrapping his head around this, not that that was anything new. “But that’s--that’s so illegal! And-And wrong!”

“Thank you for noticing,” they drawled. “Most people would say that it’s nothing more than natural selection. The strong feed on the weak… But I guess you’re different. Speaking of… I’ve told you my sob story. Now, it’s time you told me yours. Why are you here, wasting away in these mucky dungeons when you could be ruling from a gilded throne, cradling a silver spoon between your teeth?” 

Apex swung his head away, partly out of shame and partly because he did not want Starfish to see his expression. “I was framed. We both were. It isn’t fair… but life’s not fair, I suppose. You would know that better than anyone.” 

“We?” There was too much interest in the SeaWing’s voice. Apex didn’t like it one bit. “Did you also have a companion of sorts, Your Majesty?”

“No! My relationship to Permafrost isn’t like that… well.” He couldn’t really speak towards their relationship. It was unlike anything he had ever known before, but it certainly wasn’t like  _ that.  _ “He’s a friend.”

Starfish looked as smug as the cat that ate the canary. They opened their mouth to reply, but were ultimately silenced by an indistinct voice just outside Apex’s cell. They listened in uncomfortable silence to the sound of locks clicking out of place and the door swinging in on rusted hinges. The prince hissed at the burly MudWings who barged in, each holding a length of chain within their monstrously large mitts. 

  
“Alright, pretty boy. Playtime’s over,” the head warden rumbled. “You have a date with the headsman. He’s positively  _ dying  _ to meet you.” 


	9. Chapter Eight

Permafrost thrashed against the guard’s firm grip, hopelessly trying to tug free and reach his endangered companion. The guard held fast, and Apex’s voice slowly faded into the distance. That was when the panic set in, as Permafrost realized that he had no means of navigating his surroundings or perceiving possible threats.  _ Calm down,  _ he thought to himself. It was a challenge to rationalize the situation, but once he had, he found that he could glean clues based on what he heard and smelled. It wasn’t much, but he was able to deduce--from the scent of a cluster of MudWings and the sound of clanking armor--that he was currently surrounded by royal guards. Not a good place to be, he knew from experience. 

“What do you want from me?” He growled, assuming a defensive stance. Well, to the best of his ability. His movements were limited by the brute holding him in place. 

“We follow orders, kid. We don’t question them. Queen Copperhead needs you for something, and that’s all you need to know.”

He swore, MudWings were as dumb as a bag of rocks. They were infuriatingly loyal, both to their families and to their queen. That might seem like an admirable trait, but the problem lay in the fact that their loyalty led to ignorance. If their leader paraded a troop of them off a cliff, they would follow without hesitation, never stopping to question  _ why.  _

“Let. Me. Go.” It was a pointless demand, he knew, but it made him feel a little less helpless. As he predicted, Permafrost was only laughed at and tossed over some dragon’s shoulder like he was nothing more than a ragdoll. 

“He’s got some spunk. I like it,” One chortled. 

“I hate it,” Another hissed. 

“I hope it gets him killed,” The third said. Permafrost could already tell which one of them he would receive the least amount of sympathy from. 

“I haven’t done anything against the MudWing kingdom. It’s outrageous to detain me without a valid reason,” Permafrost argued, snapping at a claw that wandered a bit too close to his mouth. 

“Ooo,” The first one cooed. “He knows big words! That’s adorable. He’s kind of like one of those satchel pets. Don’t you agree, Noroi?” 

“Don’t let his puniness distract you from the fact that he must be taken into custody, Newt,” Noroi--who sounded as if he was the eldest among the three--snapped back. Without further ado, they took off with their pint-sized prize and flapped noisily towards the castle on the distant horizon. 

~

Queen Copperhead stared disdainfully down her snout at the uncooperative dragonet before her. Her informers told her that he was fully grown, but he looked like little more than a child. It made her loath to harm him, but she would do what needed to be done, as she always had and always would. Her people’s fate, though they were blissfully unaware of this, rested in the claws of the willful little brat that was hogtied and laying below her throne. He had stopped thrashing about fifteen minutes ago, most likely from sheer exhaustion due to the fact that he had been wriggling about like a fish out of water for nearly two hours beforehand. His captivity did nothing to soften his resolve; He simply wouldn’t budge. What he wanted in return for information was the one thing Queen Copperhead couldn’t provide him with: His associate’s location. 

“All I ask is that you tell me what you know about the SkyWing royalty, Permafrost.” She was growing weary of these games. “It’s a simple request, is it not? Just give me a little insight, and I’ll undo those pesky chains. They must be digging into your scales, which I imagine is awfully uncomfortable.”

“I’m not stupid, like your little cronies in the hall. You won’t let me go, just because I indulge you with a bit of gossip. Besides, why don’t you just ask Princess Condor about royal life? No… You want something else.”

This tiny creature was beginning to vex her. He was too intuitive for his own good. Heaving a heavy sigh, she decided that it would be pointless to continue this guise of freedom for the sake of intel. Besides… A bit of truth sprinkled into a lie gave it a better flavor, made it much easier to swallow. “Admittedly, you wouldn’t be permitted to leave the Mudlands. However, you’ll be free to roam the castle. That much I can grant you.”  _ Until I send your head rolling.  _

“Where is he?”

_ Back to this.  _ “Please, don’t make this harder than it has to be. Tell me what I wish to know, and I will arrange a meeting with you and your partner.”  _ A meeting in the underworld. What a touching reunion that will be. _

“You want information? Fine. Give  _ me  _ some information first. Where. Is. He?”

She could tell that this was just going to keep cycling back to the subject of the prince’s location. As much as she was loath to admit defeat, nothing would be able to convince the arctic runt to loosen his jaw. Nothing… save the one thing she had been hoping to avoid. At the sound of her sharp whistle, her personal guards swiftly jostled into the room and heave Permafrost up between them. With a renewed vigor, the little IceWing began to wrestle against them, but their grips held fast. 

“I didn’t want it to come to this, Permafrost, but you’ve left me no choice. Guards, take him down to the isolation chamber. A few days free of social interaction ought to make him a bit more willing to talk.” 

Permafrost had the decency to look scared. He slung curses at her as he was dragged out of the massive chamber, which soon turned into desperate pleas that faded into nothingness the further he moved away. She wrapped her tail neatly over her claws, admiring the way her coppery scales glinted in the low light. “Condor, my dear… you’re oh so lucky I like you,” She murmured with a wicked smile. 

~

“Are you familiar with this process, boy?”

“I’ve seen it performed hundreds of times. Trust me. My mother has a special place in her withered husk of a heart for beheadings.”

So there he was. The Prince of the SkyWings, forced into a crouch by the MudWing bearing down on top of him. His neck was stretched out against a block of packed earth, like the fact that he was currently being pressed to the ground wasn’t humiliating enough. His head, which would soon be relieved of all thoughts, was swimming with speculations and apprehension, but not for himself. Still, even when his life hung at the tip of the headman’s talons, his mind was solely focused on one thing and one thing only: Permafrost. They would most likely execute him as well seeing as they had no need for him. Apex couldn’t help but wonder if his sister's letter was at the heart of all this; the looming death, that is. He  _ knew  _ why he had been imprisoned--the theft he had been framed for--but Queen Copperhead didn’t just go around sentencing dragons to death over a  _ cup.  _ At most, a thief could expect about five years in the slug-infested cells and hard labor, if they had stolen something of extreme importance. Sure, the ornate drinkware had likely been from the queen’s personal hoard, hence why she took such offense to it being taken, but the punishment  _ still  _ didn’t match the crime. Perhaps Condor’s letter had been offensive, and now he was on the receiving end of the queen’s fury. Even then, one would think that Queen Copperhead would demand an audience with Condor to sort the matter out, rather than taking it into her own hands to exact revenge in such a sanguinary manner. 

Undoubtedly, he’d be able to puzzle it out were it not for Permafrost’s absence. He always seemed to think better in the presence of his little companion, like the pure white of his scales wiped away any intrusive thoughts with their innocent brilliance. Or, alternatively, Apex forced himself to employ the use of every brain cell in his conversations with his IceWing friend so as not to make a fool of himself. It was most likely the latter, though the former was a nice concept. 

“Before you kill me, do I get any final words? A will and testament? A complaint for the suggestion box?”

“Shut up,” his soon-to-be murderer growled at him. 

“You know, I’m not feeling super welcome. Really, your attitude is giving off some seriously bad vibes. If you want to know what I think--”

“I don’t.”

“--you guys should get a better chopping block, if you insist on removing your guests heads’ from their necks. It’s only common courtesy. My mother, for example, hers is made of marble. It’s not anything fancy, like gold or obsidian, but I’m certain that her victims feel just a  _ bit  _ more respected than I do right now.”

“You won’t be feeling anything soon, princeling.”

“Ah,” Apex drawled in a voice dripping with sarcasm, “you sure know how to comfort someone, Mr. Executioner. Maybe you should have looked into that as a career instead. I can’t imagine how mundane it must be to perform this incessant cycle of killing… it’s the same thing, over and over  _ and over  _ again. Surely, you must be bored out of your wits by day’s end.”

“I quite like my job, actually.” The MudWing on his back got dangerously close to his ear, breathing into it, “I get you knock people like you down a few pegs. Watch you squirm, try to keep yourself calm by squabbling like a wounded pigeon, and--eventually--beg for your life.”

“W-wait!” Apex could feel his time draining away, like the sand in an hourglass. “Let me have an audience with the queen! Please, at least grant me that!”

“There it is.” Apex could hear the resounding smugness in the executioner’s voice. His last thought before sharp claws closed around his neck was;  _ Huh. Permafrost didn’t act this conceited when he tried to kill me.  _


	10. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone who's wondering--yes, Starfish is non-binary :) Just wanted to clear things up! They will always be referred to using they/them pronouns.

_ Darkness. It pressed in on all sides, rendering him unable to move, speak, or breathe. It shoved itself down his throat and asphyxiated him. He could not cry out, and, even if he did… who would hear? Who would care? Certainly not his mother. Not his coward of a father. Not even his sister would be able to save him from the gathering dusk of his own demise on the horizon, the daytime flickering into nothingness like a dying star. Nothing existed when night fell, not until the morning reared its head and recreated the universe out of twigs and twine. His thoughts tumbled out of him in an endless cascade, leaving a gaping hole in his head--in his chest--that widened until it consumed every part of him. The line between life and death blurred, and Apex succumbed.  _

_. _

_. _

_. _

_ No. He wasn’t allowed to fall just yet. The pitch-black world welcomed him as if he was kin, but he couldn’t yield to its false hospitality. Why? Because as much as the shadows flooded his vision and held his limbs steady, a light pulsed in the back of his mind. It was dull, barely more than a whisper of luminescence, but so long as it was there Apex  _ could not  _ let go. He began to thrash against the gloom obscuring his vision, opening his ears and his eyes against the murky stillness. Slowly, it dissolved into little more than a fog. The fog dissipated, swirling in the air as the hazy mists began to clear from his consciousness, and he was left with only pain. Pain didn’t stop the one he fought for; Nor would it stop him. Apex claws against the agony, fighting an unseen enemy to make it to the unidentifiable light. Who was he fighting for? Why, when it was so much easier to give in? What was he hoping to gain from living to see another day? _

_ Like a flash, the light filled his mind and burned the last of the fog away with its white-hot brilliance. That was why he continued onwards, with no promise of anything but torment when he awoke.  _

Permafrost.

~

“What do you mean when you say ‘He’s escaped’? Surely you aren’t sitting before my throne, informing me that your foolhardy assumption that he was thoroughly deceased has led to you misplacing his corpse?” 

Queen Copperhead’s dimwitted executioner stood before her, draped in chains and limping from the bashing her guards had given him. His ugly brown head was bowed towards the hard-packed Earth below his feet, and his tail rocked sullenly from side to side. It took every ounce of self control in Copperhead’s body not to launch herself at the fool who had just released her one shot at leverage over the IceWing Kingdom. Without a body, how was she to blame the murder on the lovely little vermint that was languishing in her dungeons? 

“Sorry, Your Highness. Nobody’s ever survived my cuts before. I swear by it,” the fool pleaded, entirely in vain. Queen Copperhead had no intention of forgiving him, let alone allowing him to go free after this. She would just as soon see his head rolling across the ground at her feet, but there were customs in place that she’d have to perform, lest the trial be labelled ‘unjust.’ 

“And how are we to know that you didn’t simply let Apex go? Perhaps your loyalty has been compromised by riches offered by the prince, or maybe you're too much of a coward to spill royal blood? I assure you, it flows just the same as any other dragons’.”

“N-No, Sire! There was no money involved, and I would never even dream to disobey an order from one such as yourself.” The snivelling nitwit lowered himself to the ground in humility, hoping to show his loyalty through deference, no doubt. “I only wish to serve.” 

“There you have it, court. He’s a simple fool, that’s all. No treason was involved,” Queen Copperhead began sarcastically. “If the world worked like that, Mallard, we wouldn’t have any need for trials. I need proof that you aren’t plotting against me. Do you have anything that attests to your innocence?”

He seemed to shrink even lower to the ground. “No, My Liege. I do not have any evidence. B-But--”

“Silence!” Queen Copperhead snapped. “I’m not in the mood to listen to excuses all day, Mallard. Leaders have many responsibilities, and one of those responsibilities include keeping the kingdom safe from traitorous scum such as yourself.” She waved a dismissive claw, and her guards surged forward to seize Mallard. “Take him to the isolation rooms, and leave him there until he withers away or confesses to his crimes.” 

Mallard pleaded with her until his voice faded down the long hallway that separated her throne room from all the others on this floor. His cries fell on deaf ears, however: She was going to sentence him to death no matter what argument he made in his favor, and the rest of her court of yaysayers and admirers weren’t likely to protest her decision. Yet, even though she had gotten her way, it didn’t exactly feel like a victory. Permafrost remained as tight-lipped as ever, even though she could see the emotional strain of social isolation showing in shadows that lingered on his face. On top of that, her princeling was now at large somewhere in her kingdom, undoubtedly plotting an infiltration and grand escape for him and his wretched companion. 

Wait. 

A wicked smile spread across her face, and her mood elevated considerably. The little birds had just flown within throwing distance, and she had just the right stone to knock both of them out of the sky. Permanently. 

“Starfish, dear,” she called out sweetly. An emerald-green dragon, as beautiful as the ocean they had been stolen from, sauntered up to the throne with confidant strides. Queen Copperhead adored that about her personal plaything. “You were in the dungeons with our princling, weren’t you? In fact, I believe he was your neighbor.”

“He was, Your Highness. A dull one at that. Went on and on about his IceWing… pet? I don’t know, he said their relationship was complicated.” 

“Wonderful.” She clasped her claws together in delight, and Stawfish glowed at the praise. “I need you to tell me everything you remember about Apex. All of his mannerisms, his habits… What he's willing to do for the IceWing..”

“Why would…? Oh…” Starfish smiled a wicked smile and bent their heads in acceptance. “I’ll do my best to tell you everything you need to know, My Queen.”

~

He sent a silent prayer to all the great dragons of Pyrrhia, past and present, that Apex wouldn’t be foolishly gallant enough to come charging head-first into an impossible situation. The dragons spit in face with a laugh, as it were. Permafrost listened to Apex shimmy his way through the small circular skylight above his head with growing frustration. Even he--however--found it hard not to burst out laughing when he heard Apex’s grip falter, and he plummeted directly onto his tailbone--It would, undoubtedly, bruise later. That is, if Apex  _ hadn’t  _ just signed his own death warrant. 

Any reasonable dragon should have been able to see the conspicuous trap. Unfortunately for the both of them, Apex was not a reasonable dragon; Not when it came to Permafrost, at least. He waltzed right into it, completely oblivious to the fact that he was in any danger. And, on top of that, the idiot was probably  _ proud of himself.  _ Permafrost would have rolled his eyes (if he had any) and wondered how many spears pointed at his chest would make him realize how screwed they both were. That thought, however, just served to turn his anger into sadness; Then, like a cycle, it morphed back into anger. Not directed at Apex and his buffoonery, but at the unfairness of the world. For stealing his home, his sight… his best friend. 

Warning him to run would be a moot point. Permafrost knew they were surrounded, even if Apex himself wasn’t aware of it yet.  _ Still,  _ he thought,  _ if I can get these ropes undone, I can help him fight. I won’t let him go down silently.  _ He might not have been able to see his enemies, but he could feel them: Every shift in the MudWing’s armor, every clack of their claws against the earthen floor, every breath that left his enemies’ mouth. He could hear it all, and could consequently create a mental map of every dragon in their proximity. The irony that a blind dragon could see better than one that wasn’t visually impaired didn’t elude Permafrost--He just wished that their lives weren’t at stake so he could revel in it a bit more. 

“Psst, Permafrost,” Apex whisper-yelled. “I’m here to get you out, bud. Don’t worry, I got this.” 

_ How reassuring,  _ Permafrost thought. He swore up and down that Apex must be part Rainwing, given that he was such a lazy lump of asinine--

“I know. You don’t have to tell me. And I have a plan, you just have to trust me. Do you trust me?” 

For a second there, it almost sounded as if Apex was fully aware of the perilous situation he was in and had willingly walked into it knowing that there was only a small chance he’d be leaving with his life. Apex reminded himself to clean his ears out if he ever got the chance, because he the SkyWing prince couldn’t  _ possibly  _ be foolhardy enough to think that he’d be able to take on fifteen dragons at once. Then again, he had mentioned a plan… but what plan could Apex possibly have, in a hostile environment with no connections and no way out? Nevertheless, as much as Permafrost hated to admit it… he trusted Apex more than he had ever trusted anyone in his entire life. So, in the end, the IceWing conceded with a nearly imperceptible nod. 

“Great. I need you to play along, then.” Before Permafrost had time to think about the implications of that sentence, Apex was let out a ferocious roar with what must have been all the air in his lungs. When he was done, he began to speak. “Permafrost, my love! What have they done to you?!”

_ My… what now?!  _ Permafrost couldn’t help but wonder what the MudWings had done to Apex for him to turn him into the stark-raving lunatic in front of him. Then again, what did the little IceWing have to lose if he entertained the idea that they were mates? He was a dead dragon either way. So, without further ado, he flopped to the ground at Apex’s feet as though revering his lost love for being his savior. As dramatically as possible, he began to scream nonsense words against the gag stuffed into his mouth, “warning” Apex of the danger all around them. 

“What’s that, my dear? I can’t understand you. I’ll take this gag out immediately!” With delicate talons--which Permafrost appreciated--Apex extracted the cloth stuffed between his companion’s razor-sharp teeth. Permafrost fought the urge to bite him, as was his instinct whenever he felt someone’s claws get close to his snout. Hurting his so-called “lover” was sure to shatter the illusion, even if Apex deserved it for being a bumbling oaf all the time. 

The moment his gag was gone, Permafrost spat at the ground, trying to remove the bitter taste in his mouth. Apex brought a claw up to his face and caressed the burnt scales and scars lovingly, adoringly,  _ sickeningly.  _ It was all Permafrost could do not to blast ice into Apex’s face. Thank goodness the exchange was interrupted by Queen Copperhead: Any longer and Permafrost would have started gagging. 

“Well, well, well,” She began.  _ The typical launching point of any villain’s speech,  _ Permafrost mused. “The princling does care for his pet! I was beginning to think you weren’t coming, but now I know that my little bird was telling the truth. Or, should I say… little fish?”

Permafrost didn’t see anyone come in--obviously--but the atmosphere of the room changed entirely. Nothing was capable of altering ambience so much as an infamous dragon. So, when Permafrost heard a peppy, twinkling voice coming from the other side of the room, he wasn’t surprised by the intrusion. Through context clues, he could glean that the source of the noise must have been this “little fish” character. 

“Heeey Apex,” they drawled. “Sorry for ratting you out, bud, but Queenie made an offer I couldn’t refuse. Five months of freedom for a simple tidbit of gossip? Score!”

“How could you?” Apex growled. Obviously, he knew this dragon. “I trusted you, Starfish. I told you about Permafrost because I thought.. I thought you would be sympathetic, given your current situation.” 

“Welp! You thought wrong, then,” the other dragon said in a sing-song voice. “See, I value my time with the queen. But, hey, everyone needs a little room to fly every now and then. You feel me?”

“So, you’re saying you value your independence above all else, and would do anything to achieve it?” Apex’s voice had an edge to it, as if their lives hung in the balance of that one question. 

“You bet,” Starfish chirped conspiratorially. “Anything.”

“Even… betraying the queen?”

“What’s a little bit of treason, if it guarantees a lifetime of freedom?” Starfish responded lightly, as if the words held no weight to them. Permafrost was beginning to see where this was going, and a wide smile split his ruined features. 

“Wha--” Queen Copperhead didn’t have a chance to voice her confusion, because an earth-shattering crack echoed through the chamber and silenced the gathering of dragons almost instantaneously after Starfish had said their spiel. It sounded like someone had just snapped a branch in half, amplified times ten. Then, it came again. And again. A heartbeat passed between the last burst of sound and the chaos that ensued, but it was just enough time for Queen Copperhead to let out a strangled, “What have you done?!”

Dragons roared and scrambled about, shoving Permafrost this way and that in their haste to get somewhere--anywhere--else. Heat washed across his lavender scales as an unidentifiable dragon let out a plume of flames nearby. He shrunk lower to the ground, feeling the rumbling of hundreds of dragons running about under his claws: Never had his lack of vision feel more impotent than at this moment. Vaguely, the IceWing realized that the ambush had been ambushed and that dozens of dragons were flooding in through the doors by the minute, but he could hardly think rationally with panic rooting him to one spot. He nearly screamed when someone large wrapped their arms around his lithe body, until Apex’s soothing voice reached his ears. 

“Woah, hey, don’t freak out. I’m going to get you out of here. Starfish created a diversion--I’ll explain later--but it won’t last for long. Come on, let’s go while they’re too busy dealing with the escapees.”

Permafrost nodded numbly, and together, they scrambled out of the MudWing castle and into the open air beyond. 


	11. Chapter Ten

Condor was in her study when the letter came. Her eyes did a quick two-second scan over the words, but it took her mind an additional thirty seconds to fully catch up with what she had just read. When it did, she crumpled the paper up in her talons and launched at the wall out of fury. 

“Those numbskulled MudWings! Gah!! I should have known not to trust them with Apex’s life! I suppose I can’t even trust my closest companion!”

For a moment, Condor was so overcome with paranoia that she could do naught but throw furtive glances at every passing shadow. They seemed to contain the forms of dragons within their murky boundaries, laughing at her, taunting her. Then, the moment passed and she was able to fully focus on the task at hand: Queen Copperhead needed to be taken care of, and  _ swiftly,  _ before rumor got out that she and Condor had been exchanging private correspondences for nearly a year and a half. Who knows what the MudWing queen would do with the treasure trove of information she had in her big, ugly claws. After all, you know what they say. Two can keep a secret…

~

“It feels like we’ve been walking for hours,” Permafrost complained behind him. Normally, Apex would snap back at him. Now, however, he merely sympathized with the little IceWing’s plight. He likely hadn’t been fed very well, if his emaciated figure was any indication, nor did he receive proper exercise during his time with the MudWings. Additionally, a hacking cough seemed to be creeping up on Permafrost, immobilizing him for a few minutes out of every hour as they wracked his gaunt body. Apex suspected that it was a result of the dampness of the MudWing cells, which meant that Permafrost’s recovery would be long and hard. Apex would do all that he could, but for all his power and influence, the SkyWing prince was useless to help his friend at the moment. 

“Just a little longer,” Apex reassured.

“You said that forty minutes ago! Remind me again why we aren’t flying,” Permafrost demanded. 

“It’s too risky,” Apex spoke soothingly. He knew Permafrost was frustrated, but yelling wouldn’t help them escape the marshes and it certainly wouldn’t help the IceWing’s cough. “A giant golden dot in the sky? We’re sure to be discovered. It’s not exactly like we bled in. Trust me, it’s safer on the ground, where we can hide amongst the weeds and mud.”

Permafrost grumbled something unsavory under his breath, but no further complaints came from him as they marched on through the muck. Apex honestly didn’t know how the MudWings lived in this. The mud sucked at his claws and made every step ten times more laborious than it needed to be. Though, he reasoned that any dragon out of their element would wonder as to the mentality of that land’s inhabitants. He had no doubt that Permafrost found the harsh winds and high elevation of the SkyWing palace to be unpleasant, though the IceWing never seemed to complain. More likely than not, though, his lack of complaints about the location of his prison were overshadowed by the fact that he was a captive in the first place and that his captor had--indirectly--blinded him. Ironically, the one to pull Apex out of his thoughts of Permafrost was the little spitfire himself, having stubbornly stopped a few paces away from where Apex was standing. The weeds rustled as Apex tramped back around to face Permafrost to encourage him to keep moving, but the look on the IceWing’s face stopped him. It was equal parts pain and concentration, as though he was trying to will away the aches in his body. Eventually, as it usually does, the pain won. With a heaving gasp, Permafrost began sporadically coughing, so violently that the force of it dragged him into a sitting position. Apex watched, helpless against whatever had made its way into his companion’s lungs. 

When the fit had passed, Apex shuffled forward, placing his claws on his companion’s shoulder. For once, Permafrost seemed too out-of-it to pull away. That was worrisome; There was nothing that the IceWing hated more than being touched. Even worse, the lavender-colored dragon leaned into the touch, as though he was no longer able to support himself. Apex--who was willing to carry most of the burden--figured that it’d be easier on Permafrost and faster overall if he just carried the tiny dragon. And that’s what he did--lugging Permafrost up onto his back and trudging forward, jaw set in determination. 

However, keeping up a steady pace on nothing but adrenaline was taxing, and bound to become nearly impossible as soon as the energy melted into exhaustion. Apex hadn’t eaten in a day or two, and had just spent the last few hours single-handedly undermining the prison system of the MudWing kingdom, releasing every innocent person that Copperhead had wrongfully imprisoned. Well, he hadn’t quite done it alone. Starfish had proven to be of a great deal of help to him, and it eased Apex’s consciousness to know that he had helped get them out of that horrific situation. They had most likely snuck out during the frenzy that had ensued during the coup, and were probably on their way back to the ocean at this very moment. He wished them well, and hoped that their journey wasn’t nearly as onerous as his was turning out to be.

On his back, Permafrost groaned and shifted. He felt hot--much too hot for any dragon, let alone an IceWing. His scales gave the effect of melting, as they often did, glinting in the dying light like morning dew. The SkyWing prince turned his attention back to marching, one laborious step at a time, and eventually made it to a clearing. Needing a moment to catch his breath but not wanting to stay for too long, (lest he be discovered and dragged tail-first back to Queen Copperhead) he laid down and curled his legs underneath his body, to ensure that he wouldn’t fall asleep. 

Sparrows flitted from branch to branch high above his head, and Apex’s mouth watered at the prospect of a roasted duck. It wouldn’t do much to fill him, but maybe there was one nearby… But these thoughts led nowhere. Apex was much too tired to hunt, and besides, he couldn’t leave Permafrost on his own. The little dragon was sleeping so peacefully on his back, and the prince doubted he would have the strength to fight if someone should discover him while Apex was away. Permafrost was skillful, yes, but not invincible. Nor would his stubbornness get him very far in the state he was in, though… Apex  _ had  _ underestimated his perseverance in the past. Still, Permafrost looked like he had one foot in the grave and another on a banana peel. Apex was running out of options, and fast. The sun was setting, and he was pretty sure that he wouldn’t be able to complete the journey back to his homeland without at least  _ some  _ semblance of food in his stomach. Permafrost would need food to, if he was ever going to pull himself out of this sickness in a timely manner. On foot, their journey would take over a month… and Apex didn’t think his frosty friend could endure that much walking as it were. 

As Apex lay in contemplation, unbeknownst to him, a dragon was ever-so-slowly creeping towards him, their green tail lashing. They hopped from bush to bush, easily blending into the foliage thanks to the camouflage afforded to them by their scales. They zipped between the trees, emerald eyes focused on their prize: The shimmer of gold behind the drooping leaves of a willow tree, the muted lavender draped over it. They were a yard away. Then, a foot. Then, just a few inches… 

“AHA! I found you!” They yelled, jumping out to startle the overgrown golden nugget laying in the mud. And surprise him they did--Apex leapt up with a roar, effectively knocking Permafrost off his back and abruptly waking the IceWing. 

“Hey!” The lavender dragon protested weakly, scrabbling after Apex’s warmth. “What the--I was taking a nap! I had a dream we were flying back home… But now I’m glad we weren’t in the air, you bumbling oaf!”

“Yeah, Apex, that was so uncool,” Starfish chimed in. “Talk about rude awakenings. You should totally apologize.”

“Me?! Apologize?! I wasn’t the crazy dragon who leapt out of the brush to scare the perfectly peaceful ones!” Apex fumed, smoke curling around his nostrils.

“Woah, cool your jets! I was just kidding,” Starfish attempted to smoothe Apex’s ruffled feathers, so to speak. “Besides, your smoke signal is gonna alert every available patrol as to our location, and no one wants that. So deep breaths, kay?”

Apex, crossing his eyes to see the smoke wafting up from his snout, quickly snorted to stifle it. He took a deep breath, letting the angry embers in his chest grow cold and stagnant, and successfully got control over his own temper.  _ Stupid SkyWings let their emotions dictate their actions,  _ he thought to himself,  _ and I am not a stupid SkyWing. I am the prince.  _ “I’m glad to see that you escaped okay, Starfish. But, I have to wonder… why are you coming this way?”

“Huh?” They tilted their head to the side like they didn’t understand the question. “Well… I’m catching up with you guys, duh. How else am I going to get into the SkyWing palace? I doubt they’d let me in just because I told them that I saved your sorry rump.”

“Starfish,” Apex began gently, “you’re your own dragon now. You can go anywhere you want, see anything you want. Aren’t SeaWings most happy… y’know… in the sea?”

Starfish shrugged. “I don’t really remember the sea. It’s an unfamiliar place, where I’d be alone and surrounded by strange dragons. I know you, though…”

Apex swung his head from side to side, disbelieving. “Wait, wait. You want to go live with the  _ first dragon you meet?  _ Do you even hear yourself?”

Starfished ears flattened against their head, and they shuffled their claws uncomfortably. “That’s… That’s not the only reason, I swear. You were… well, you were the first dragon who’s been nice to me in a long time. And I… I really want to make it up to you. Plus, I guess… I just trust you more than I’ve trusted anyone before. I get good vibes from you.”

“This is--!”

“Can you hunt?” Permafrost cut in, and the words died on Apex’s lips. 

“Yes,” Starfish chirped in reply, instantly brightening when they saw an opening. 

“Perfect. Then you’re in. I like fish, by the way.” Permafrost spun around and began poking around in the mud, leaving Apex gaping. He was surprised to find that all his protests had died in his mind the moment Permafrost had spoken in favor of Starfish joining their ragtag group. Apex hadn’t really considered the sheer impact that the IceWing had on him, but he was starting to grasp the totality of it. The prince was, truly, wrapped around his companion’s claw. 

He sighed, wings drooping in defeat. “Fine. You can join us.” Starfish squealed in delight and Apex rolled his eyes, preparing for the longest road trip of his life. 


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's short, but it's honestly one of my favorites. I hope you like it too!

“Are you enjoying your fish,  _ my love?” _

Apex snorted, nearly hacking up a piece of catfish that lodged itself in his throat. He swallowed difficulty, forcing it down so he could speak. “What,” came the breathless response, more a statement than a question. Permafrost felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and Starfish--sensing piping hot tea--instantly looked up from their own pile of fish. 

“I just asked how your food was,” Permafrost said coyly. 

“O-Oh…” Apex stuttered out. “I just thought you…”

“I what?” Permafrost tilted his head to the side innocently, his tongue flicking over his pearly white teeth. 

“N-Nevermind… It doesn’t matter…”

The IceWing shrugged, returning to his own food. He let the awkward silence build up, just for the sake of making Apex squirm, and then muttered, “Whatever you say,  _ darling.” _

The reaction was immediate. Apex scrambled to his feet, pointing an accusatory claw at Permafrost, even though the latter couldn’t see it. “See?! There it is again! You keep calling me these pet names, and--”

“Apex,” Starfish cut in, confusion lacing their tone, “what are you talking about? Permafrost is just asking you how the fish is.”

Apex’s head swung back and forth between the two innocuous faces staring at him--or, in Permafrost’s case, in his general direction--and stomped his foot in frustration. It made a squelching noise in the mud, and Apex shook the sludge out from in between his toes with a disgusted shake. “That’s it! All you two do is mess with me all day long, and I need a break! I’m going for a walk before I end up pushing you both into a pit of quicksand!!” On that note, he absconded into the tangle of reeds surroundingthe mud pit they had stationed themselves in for the night. Starfish flicked their tail in unease: They hadn’t meant to scare their only protection away. They had just wanted to poke fun at him a little. Besides, Apex  _ was  _ the one who pretended to proclaim his undying love for Permafrost in the Queen’s castle, for the sake of the ruse of idiotic passion. 

“Think he’ll be back soon?” They murmured to Permafrost, who lay just a few feet away. He pretended not to hear Starfish, even though the SeaWing knew that his perception was impeccable.  _ Though,  _ they thought,  _ he hasn’t been at the top of his game ever since he got sick.  _ Even now, Permafrost looked like he had been dragged through the mud and laid out to dry: His movements were stiff, and every time they thought he had beaten his fever, it always seemed to return with a vengeance. Additionally, his hacking cough had progressively gotten worse until he could hardly travel more days than not. Starfish knew that Apex was worried, even if he tried his best to appear indifferent towards Permafrost’s fate. 

Starfish was starting to think Permafrost had fallen asleep on his food. His eyes were closed, and most of his fish was untouched. That was another thing entirely: He had begun to lose his appetite. Apex was close to forcing food down the other dragon’s throat, Starfish knew. And while they were no doctor, Starfish was pretty confident that they’d have to stop somewhere and find a doctor pretty soon. At this rate, Permafrost would starve to death, if the cough didn’t take his life first. The thought made Starfish exceedingly unhappy; In spite of themselves, they couldn’t find it in their heart to treat these dragons as if they were nothing more than a couple of strangers. They had always been good at masking or pushing away emotions. They had to be, to survive years of living with Queen Copperhead. But these two had brought something out in Starfish, and fierce protectiveness and loyalty that they hadn’t felt in a long time. 

“Hey,” they probed, trying to get Permafrost to look up. He didn’t. 

“Come on, I knew you were tired of Apex’s grouchiness, but I didn’t think you meant  _ literally, _ ” they joked, attempting to get Permafrost to laugh. He maintained his silence. 

“Permafrost,” Starfish grew serious. “You have to get up. We’re only stopping to eat, remember? We have to get moving, or it’ll put us back another day.” Nothing.

Equal parts fed up and concerned, Starfish hauled themselves to their feet and softly stepped closer to the IceWing, so as not to disturb him if he  _ was  _ asleep. They twisted their head to look at him from different angles: A little lavender bundle, curled up around a pile of slimy brown fish. Starfish couldn’t tell if he was awake, thanks to the absence of open eyes, but his ear twitched when she placed a claw on him. He was cold; Perhaps naturally so? Or maybe… his ear had remained stationary, and it had just been the wind that had shifted it. Maybe…

“Permafrost? Permafrost?!”

~

Apex slithered over the mud, crouching low in the reeds so as to avoid detection. The whole time, he muttered about the idiocy of his companions, and questioned why he even bothered to stay with them in the first place.  _ The journey would be much faster, if it was just me,  _ Apex reasoned. As soon as the thought entered his head, however, he shook it off. He hadn’t come so far with Permafrost just to abandon him in the middle of some random swamp. And Starfish… he owed them a great debt. They were the only reason he had been able to make this journey, after all. It only seemed fair that they be allowed to tag along, especially since they were willing to take the load of watching Permafrost off of Apex’s shoulders. The two of them alternated the responsibility of hunting: Some days, he would go out while Starfish watched their tiny spitfire. Other days, Starfish would be the one to go out. On those days, like today, they usually ate fish ( _ bleck) _ . Apex was grateful for the food, and he would never complain, but he preferred a good cow. Maybe even an alligator. 

Trapped in his head, reflecting, Apex didn’t notice the dragon in the underbrush until he practically fell on top of them. His claws knocked into something that felt like solid rock, and he scrambled away just before he stepped on whatever he had touched to get a better look. Upon closer inspection, he saw that it was a MudWing and silently cursed fate for leading him to this moment. They were going to get discovered and turned in, and it was all his fault. He just  _ had  _ to go for a walk! He made to stutter out an apology and retreat as quickly as possible, but the giant brown dragon hadn’t moved. Experimentally, Apex poked their amber scales. Still, no response. Furthermore, they were so  _ cold.  _ Dread pooling in the pit of his stomach, he wrapped his talons around the MudWing’s shoulder and hefted them onto their side. Blank, dead eyes stared back at him, and he had to bite back a yelp. Carefully stepping over the deceased dragon, he pushed further through the reeds towards a gathering of brown mounds he spied over the tops of the reeds. 

The eerie silence permeated the swamp. No crickets, no cicadas, no squeak of mice underfoot; The endless melody of the marshes had been silenced in this place, and Apex could feel the tension building with each step he took. Slowly, forcing his talons to remain steady, he pushed back the last curtain of weeds separating the wild bog from this little sector of civilization. 

What he saw, he knew, would follow him for the rest of his life. 

They were all dead. A hundred dragons, laying in the mud, in various states of decay. An entire village, with no sign of struggle in sight… no blood, no wounds, as if… 

“Permafrost!”

~

The letter reached Queen Holly in her bedchamber. Exasperated and bone-tired, she ripped it open with a talon in agitation, her eyes blankly skimming the words written there. Her gaze drifted to the bottom of the page, and her wings snapped open in surprise. 

“Queen Pyre? Why on Pyrrhia would she be writing to me, of all dragons??”

In an attempt to answer this question, she let her eyes travel back to the top of the page and reread the words she had briefly scanned the first time around. The more she read, the more she felt anger blossom and swell in her chest. By the time she had finished it, the paper had crumpled around her bone-crushing grip. In a fury, she tore it to shreds and tossed the pieces in the air. They drifted down around her, swirling like snowflakes in the wind as they floated towards the icy ground. 

“Permafrost,” she growled, eyes burning with hatred. 


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yaaaayyy more characters :D

Weeds pulled at their claws as they raced along the twisting path, obviously unused by dragons for centuries. Besides its overgrowth, trees had sprouted in the spaces where there should have been a clear passageway, forcing Apex and Starfish to diverge from it and rejoin it wherever it started up again. A number of obstacles stood in their path, including fallen trunks, rocks, and pits of quicksand deep enough to submerge a dragon to their elbows before they even realized what was happening. It was a treacherous journey, made even more so by the limp dragon strapped to the prince’s back. It was nigh impossible, but Apex was nothing if not devoted to his cause. They had always found a way out of trouble before, so why would now be any different? This was the hope he clung to as he zigzagged between rotten stumps and pools of stagnant water: Permafrost would be okay, just as long as they could get out of the marshes. His lungs burned in protest with each step, and Apex had no doubt that Starfish was also feeling the strain of this desperate scramble in their muscles.  _ Just a little longer.  _ But that was exactly what he had told Permafrost, rather than own up to the fact that he was utterly and completely lost. In the end, his pride had cost them precious time. It had cost  _ Permafrost _ precious time. 

He broke out of the grove of trees he had been powering through and into a shady hollow; In fact, he nearly fell over the lip of it and tumbled into its shallow depths in his rush to plow onwards. He stopped just in time, claws digging into the edge. A cascade of pebbles rained down into the. It appeared they had reached a river basin, once flowing with water and now all but dried up, except for a few patches of mud here and there. Starfish ran up beside him, stopping at the edge and looking down into the pit of land less than a foot below them. They were panting, letting their tongue loll out of their open maw. 

“Why did… we stop…?” They asked between gulps. 

Apex swiveled his head around, buying himself time as he pretended to examine the surroundings. It was no use. He had no idea where they were, where they were going, or  _ why they were even running.  _ He just knew he had to get out of MudWing territory, and soon. A sense of erroneousness had set into his bones, telling him that it was past time he left this swampish nightmare. “I don’t know,” he whispered a breathless response to Starfish, hoping they would have some advice to offer. They didn’t.

“Well, we’re screwed.” They plopped onto the ground, heaving a heavy sigh. “This place all looks the same! Tree, mud, brown, dark green, that’s all I see!”

“Haven’t you lived here for years?” Apex asked scornfully, his snout wrinkling.

“I’ve lived in the  _ palace  _ for years,” they corrected. “It’s a lot different than actually… being here. It’s kinda surreal, actually. I never thought… well, I never even imagined what the world would look like beyond the bars of my cage. In my dreams, the mud flats were always… obscure.”

Apex fell silent, scratching at the rock under his talons. It was the only solid ground he had seen in miles, and even then, it was crumbling under his touch like it was nothing but packed sand. He heard Permafrost’s breathing--hollow, rattling, shallow--and recalled his panic when he had discovered his friend in his current comatose state. 

Immediately after discovering the village of dead dragons, he had raced back to where he had left Starfish to care for his sickly IceWing. Only one thing could slay a community of dragons so quickly, kill without leaving its mark upon the victim. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Every MudWing he had seen in that village was practically skeletal, as if they hadn’t been eating well… from that point, it was only a matter of putting two and two together. 

A plague had struck the MudWing kingdom. 

And Permafrost was about to be another victim of it. 

“Well,” Starfish hesitantly broke the silence stretching between the two of them, “neither of us have any knowledge of medicine, right? I think our best best would be to find some sort of witchdoctor, or… doctor-doctor. Or… you know… anyone who might have even a semblance of an answer. An educated guess? Anything is better than just watching him…” They let the sentence drift off, unfinished, but the implication rang louder than any words.  _ Die.  _

“I know that,” Apex snapped back, peevishly. “I… I know. I don’t want to see him suffering, trust me. If you can tell me how to  _ find  _ a doctor, I’ll gladly do whatever I can to reach them.” 

Starfish gulped, held their breath. They could tell that all this helpless floundering had Apex’s nerves worn down to the point of snapping, and they hadn’t meant to provoke him further. Still… the prince didn’t have a plan, or even a suggestion. They were both running on empty, literally and figuratively, and they wouldn’t get very far without a plan. So, the SeaWing tried again, standing up and softening their tone so as not to create further conflict between them. 

“I don’t,” they said slowly, “but I know someone who might.” 

“... and you couldn’t bring this up earlier, because…?”

“I just now thought of it!” Starfish hissed defensively, drawing their claws to their chest. “Also, it’s sort of hard to talk to you when you were flying through the forest like a bat out of hell!”

“That’s--! Fair…” Apex sighed, letting his mind wander for a moment. He only snapped back to reality when Starfish poked his shoulder. 

“We should go… I’ll lead the way.” 

“Yeah,” Apex muttered grimly. Starfish twisted around and began making their way around the hollow, and Apex followed with his head hung low. He watched the grass crumple beneath his talons and resisted the urge to drag his claws through the muck in frustration. He  _ hated  _ this place, and all its inhabitants. Some part of him knew that his enmity was misplaced, that Copperhead should be the only recipient of his vehement loathing, but he didn’t care at this very moment. He could be reasonable later. 

Starfish’s march took them by bogs and foggy mud pits, through fields of squishy grass and sluggish, brown rivers. They travelled for miles on a seemingly endless trail. Permafrost was getting heavy on his back, and his spines were starting to dig in-between his scales. The ragtag group was running low on food, time, and the strength to keep going. All of this weighed heavily on Apex’s mind as they wound their way through the forest, almost as pressing as the physical weight of a full-grown IceWing on top of him. The prince was, in fact, just about to voice his complaints when Starfish stopped suddenly in front of him, coming to a complete and abrupt halt. Apex nearly ran into her backside, and felt indignation swell in his chest upon recovering from the shock of it. 

“Hey, why--!”

“ShshshsSHHHHH!!”

Apex obeyed, snapping his mouth shut. He would have liked to give Starfish a piece of his mind, but he had known them for long enough to figure that there was a good reason they were telling him to zip his lips. And so they waited. The sounds of the bog drifted around them, fading in and out of earshot as the sun sunk below the horizon and nocturnal creatures began to rouse from their slumber. Apex heard the buzzing of a mosquito by his left ear, and an owl screeched in the distance as its talons hit their mark on some unsuspecting prey. The thought made his mouth water. Frogs croaked and the wind rustled the drooping leaves of the willows around them. So far, nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. Starfish, however, had their ears perked up and their head swivelling around in every direction, as if hearing something that Apex couldn’t. He was beginning to think that this was just more of Starfish’s antics when a branch snapped behind them. A  _ large  _ branch, snapped by a  _ large  _ animal. Apex ran through defensive maneuvers in his head, rooted his feet firmly on the ground, and swung around to pin whatever it was to a tree. 

“GAAAAHHHHH!!!!”

The piercing screech took Apex by surprise, and he was further mystified by Starfish’s attempt to pull him off of the intruder. He looked down at the burly MudWing under his claws, cowering in fear with one wing pulled up over his massive head. The scream  _ couldn’t  _ have come from him; Or, at least, that’s what Apex thought until the dragon began speaking. 

“I-I-I’m sorry… D-Didn’t m-mean to sc-scare you…” The MudWing said softly, ears drooping remorsefully. Starfish finally managed to drag their golden companion off of the brutish MudWing. 

“It’s okay Bullfrog, you didn’t do anything wrong. Apex’s just a little… hot-headed.” 

“A-A-A-Apex?!” The MudWing, Bullfrog, squealed. He instantly dipped into a low bow, forehead pressed against the dirt in reverie. “Your M-Majesty! Please for-forgive me for s-sneaking up on you like th-that!” 

_ At least  _ someone  _ cares who I am in this accursed kingdom,  _ Apex thought ruefully. “Don’t call me that,” he hissed. “Not here. I don’t want to be dragged back to Copperhead’s house of horrors because someone hears you.” 

“Queen Copperhead,” Bullfrog whispered, as if something had just occurred to him. “Starfish, how come you’re not with her? Sh-She didn’t let you out of her sight l-last time I saw you.”

Starfish hung their head, as if ashamed. “It’s… a long story,” they breathed out past a sigh. Bullfrog didn’t push the matter any further.

“O-Okay… Well, wh-what are you doing so deep in the bayou…? Especially th-this late at night… wh-what if you fall over a branch and get h-hurt? What if you come across an alligator, and-and step on its tail, and it eats you?? What if--”

“Bullfrog, Bullfrog,” Starfish soothed. “Don’t fall down the rabbit hole of possibilities. Nothing good comes from that, remember? We hope for the worst, plan for the best, and take deep breaths. One thing at a time.” Bullfrog nodded and began to breathe a bit deeper, though it just sounded like he was gulping air to Apex. “As for why we’re out here… well, we have a bit of an issue, and I was hoping you’d be hanging around these parts.”

“I-I-Issue?”

Apex presented the timid MudWing with Permafrost, who remained draped over his back, as he had been for the past five hours. Bullfrog gasped softly, examining the gaunt figure. Permafrost’s lavender scales shone dully, and his white underbelly had taken on an ashy shade of grey. He was barely breathing, Apex knew; He could feel the shallow breaths and weak coughs. They were the only indication that Permafrost was still holding on. Bullfrog’s eyes flicked up to take in the strange collection of misfits he’d run into--A SeaWing running away from the sea, the prince of the SkyWing kingdom, and a dying IceWing. His eyes fell on a scar running down Apex’s neck--it looked fairly recent, if the blood crusted around the edges was any indication--and he took a step away, fearful. 

“Y-You have to promise me that Coypu won’t get in any t-trouble for helping you…”

Starfish held Bullfrog’s gaze for a moment, then let it drop. That seemed to be all the answer he needed, and he turned to amble away. Apex, desperate, shouted after him. 

“W-Wait! Please, Bullfrog, we need your help!” 

“I c-can’t put my teacher’s life in danger,” he responded over his shoulder, though the answer seemed to make him nervous. “Please understand... “

Apex felt his claws itching to move. He wouldn’t let it end like this. He  _ couldn’t  _ let it end like this. So, without thinking, he raced towards Bullfrog’s retreating form, ignoring Starfish’s shouts behind him. When he was about a foot away, his muscles bunched up, every one of his nerves charged with potential energy. A moment passed--a brief lapse in time, where the world seemed to stand still--before Apex leapt over Bullfrog’s head and landed neatly in front of his path. The MudWing stopped in his tracks, yelping in surprise. 

“Please,” Apex begged as he whirled around. “I can swear to you that so long as I am with you all, to the best of my ability, I will protect your teacher. Even if it means my death.”

Bullfrog’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “You would die for your IceWing?” He whispered in amazement.

“I would do anything for Permafrost.”

Starfish finally caught up to the two males, just in time to hear Bullfrog say, “Alright. I’ll take you t-to Coypu…”


	14. Chapter Thirteen

Coypu was in heaven. 

She had finally managed to rid herself of that numbskulled clod, Bullfrog, for an entire afternoon! He was always on her heels, stumbling over his words to tell her about… a village, or something? She had stopped listening to him about five years ago, when the apprenticeship had been thrust upon her by his parents, who hoped it would force him to make  _ something  _ of himself. At the time, she hadn’t minded the thought of having another dragon around to fetch her whatever she needed, whenever she needed it, but she soon learned that he was more of a bother than he was useful. He bombarded her with pointless questions about existence, and had grown big enough to occupy about one-fifth of the space within her hut. That might not seem like a lot, but one-fifth becomes significant when you get wacked with a tail everytime he turns. 

Now, though…

Now was her time. She was spending her much-needed relaxation time in the hot-springs by her secluded hovel, warming her too-cold scales in the pleasantly bubbly water. Everything was going her way that afternoon: She had snagged an idiotic rabbit that morning and made a nice stew from it, which she finished in five big gulps. The naive village-mongers nearby had laid out their monthly tribute to her--some doing so fearing her ability to heal as animus magic and others out of respect for her accomplishments--and she had received a mango among the offerings. She had no idea where someone had gotten a  _ mango  _ of all things, but it was certainly a refreshing change to the usual coins and fish. Yup, today was going to be perfect. 

“Coypu!”

She didn’t hear it. 

“Coypu!!”

Maybe if she just ignored it, it would go away.

“COYPU--”

“WHAT?!” She splashed out of the warm water and made a lunge towards her rapidly approaching nuisance of a protege. 

He stopped in his tracks, frightened by the rage in her eyes, as she had hoped. Some small part of her felt bad, and she reflexively squashed it. Before he even had a chance to explain his intrusion, her eyes fell upon the other dragons he had brought to her humble abode: A SkyWing that looked to be carved out of pure gold, a SeaWing greener than a frog’s rear-end, and a bedraggled IceWing hanging limply on the gilded dragon. 

“Okay, Coypu, I can explain--”

“UuuuuuuuuuuUUUUUUUUUUUGH!” She let out a long, low groan, claws digging into the squishy mud. She nearly flung it directly into Bullfrong’s eyes: He deserved it, not only because he had disturbed her rest, but also because he had led a troupe of troublemakers to her only haven of relaxation. He was lucky she was merciful. 

“Okay, y-you’re mad,” he mumbled shyly. “I-I understand… But hear me out! Th-These dragons need help, and you’re the best healer in the swamp!” 

“You won’t find sympathy in flattery, you useless lump of--!” She hissed at Bullfrog. 

“ _ This  _ is the dragon you were trying to protect?” The shiny dragon, completely ignoring Coypu’s protestations, strolled forward like an arrogant peacock. He swung his massive head around, eyes scanning the perimeter for any potential threats. 

“Protect? Me? Ha!” Coypu laughed sardonically, stepping in the giant dragon’s way to prevent him from moving further into her territory. “That sack of cow dung can’t even protect an egg, let alone a full-grown dragon. Now, just  _ what  _ do you think you’re doing, coming into my land as if you own the place? And  _ why  _ are you here?” Apex opened his mouth to speak, but she shoved a talon in his face to silence him. “No! Nevermind! I don’t want to know. She waved a claw in dismissal, sniffing disdainfully. “Go away.”

“B-But Coypu--!”

“That’s enough out of you,” she snapped. “I’m up to my ears in your ludicrousy on a daily basis, and you still manage to make my life harder with these asinine requests of yours. Just sit still, so I can pretend that you don’t exist for an hour.”

It was at that moment that Permafrost groaned on Apex’s back, giving a weak wheeze as he struggled to catch his breath. Apex carefully pulled the limp IceWing off of his back and massaged the space directly under his ribcage, as Bullfrog had instructed him to. Permafrost soon fell back into a normal breathing pattern and drifted back into a deep sleep. Coypu looked on with narrowed eyes, her tail twitching near-imperceptibly. Finally, she headed over to the small band of travellers and pushed Apex aside, in order to get a better look at the sickly dragon he had been caring for. Apex was about to protest, but he was silenced with a warning nudge from Starfish.

Coypu took her time examining Permafrost, listening to his breathing and checking his reflexes. “Bullfrog,” she finally said, her voice sounding distant as if she was deep in thought. “Grab honey and ginger. I should have some left over from last time.” 

“Last time?” Apex questioned, stepping forward despite Starfish’s insistent tugging. “So you’ve seen this before?”

“Yes,” Coypu said grimly, “I have.”

“Please, tell me what it is! I haven’t seen anything like it before!”

“That’s because the parasite that causes this can’t survive in the mountains. But before I tell you anything more…” She paused, absentmindedly pointing a talon in Apex’s direction. “ _ You  _ tell  _ me  _ why the prince of the SkyWings is hanging around some run-down swamp in the middle of MudWing territory.”

“It’s… a long story,” Apex breathed out. “To give you the general gist of it, we were delivering a letter when we were both wrongfully imprisoned. By the queen. I-I think he might have picked this up in the dungeons, or--” 

Coypu snapped her head up, staring at Apex in an entirely different light. Her brow creased, and she turned her attention back to the afflicted IceWing below her claws. “The isolation rooms,” she said softly. 

“The… what?” Apex replied, confused. 

She shook her head, as though dismissing a memory that creeped into her consciousness. “They must have put him in there. It’s the only explanation, unless the two of you have been traipsing around in MudWing territory for over a year.”

“Over a year? What’s significant about a year?”

Apex was starting to get the sense that she was talking in riddles on purpose. Bullfrog silently came up beside her with the ingredients Coypu had requested, and she got to work: She forced Permafrost’s jaws open and stuffed a clawful of the honey inside, massaging his throat to get him to swallow it. Apex flinched, involuntarily thinking of how much his IceWing companion would hate this treatment and wishing he could hear his snippety protests. Instead, Permafrost remained dead silent as the herbs were forced down his gullet. 

“There,” she muttered, stepping away so Bullfrog could swoop in to pick Permafrost up; He did so effortlessly, as if he didn’t register the new weight draped over his broad shoulders. As much as Apex loathed MudWings due to recent events, he had to admire their strength and tenacity. 

“Is he healed?” Apex asked in a tentative voice, probing for a response from the seemingly distracted dragon. Luckily for him, Coypu had snapped back to her senses. 

“No, he’s not healed, you great blop of swamp mush! That was to ease his breathing, so we can make our way back home.” She rolled her eyes and whirled around, her tail flicking against Apex’s face in admonishment. Without warning, her and Bullfrog began to trot away and it was all Apex could do to force his tired legs to keep pace with them. He heard Starfish trailing behind him, and a quick glance back confirmed that they were following, albeit slowly. 

“Wait!” He called out to the two MudWings, who were about five feet ahead. “Does this mean you’ll heal him?”

Coypu grumbled over her shoulder, “The only thing that can heal him is time and fate. All I can do is soothe his pain, or ease his passing. But… I’m going to try. So hurry up, you dimwitted son of a donkey!!”


	15. Chapter Fourteen

This was a disaster.

An utter, indisputable, humiliating disaster. 

Fatechanger charged through the ranks of idle NightWings, jostling through the crowd to reach her beloved queen. Queen Ebonyshadow was addressing her subordinates, graciously taking time out of her busy schedule to attend to the miniscule happenstances that aggrieved the gathered mob of underlings.  _ They don’t deserve her,  _ Fatechanger thought. But she could worry about the queen’s too-soft heart later: Now, she was on a mission. 

Fatechanger fought the urge to wince every time someone’s wing brushed up against her own, deigning to focus on the sensation of the scroll encasement digging into her palm with each squeeze. It was a good distraction, and a reminder of the weighty subject contained within its cylindrical golden walls. Finally, she reached her queen, who didn’t so much as glance at her favorite attendant in the world. It was as if she wasn’t aware of Fatechanger’s presence, but the twinkle in the queen’s amber eyes said otherwise. Fatechanger sat and waited patiently, unlike all the imbeciles chattering for her attention. 

“Queen Ebonyshadow!” One of them, a slim Nightwing with midnight-blue scales, clamored. “What Bonecrusher says is preposterous! How can I steal something he  _ never had in the first place?!”  _

“Ohoho, is that the game we’re playing?” Another, a coal-black NightWing with a gray underbelly and broad shoulders, hissed back. “Riddle me this, Stygian: How did you come to possess  _ my  _ ancestors' heirloom, hm? I suppose Riftwhisper came back from the dead and  _ handed  _ you his favorite horn ornament??”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!” Stygian cried back, voice shrill with fury. “My grandfather’s name was Rainwatcher! The initials ‘R.W’ don’t exclusively belong to your family, so the engraving isn’t evidence! Do you remember being given this treasure by your parents?”

Bonecrusher shuffled, suddenly uncertain. His massive size only served to make his bashfulness comical. He looked like a giant dragonet, chastised for being a bully. “Well… no… because you stole it before it could be given to me!”

Stygian stared at him for a good forty seconds, sharp yellow eyes unreadable. Then, he muttered in a dark tone, “Bonecrusher, your parents died twenty years ago.” 

“Yeah.”

“And we’re twenty-two.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“So you think… that as a dragonet… I snuck out of my cavern, into yours, and stole your gold band? And I’ve kept it for twenty years, but you’re just now noticing? Don’t you think that your family would have brought it up if something as precious as a family heirloom was stolen?”

“N-No,” Bonecrusher stuttered. “Because  _ my  _ family isn’t full of a bunch of whiny babies! We take what’s ours, instead of complaining about it!”

Stygian was about to respond, when Queen Ebonyshadow raised a perfect, shiny claw to silence him. “Wait,” she rumbled in a melodic voice. “I’m thinking.” 

Silence permeated the hall, unbroken but for the steady drip of water from the stalagmites to the floor of the cave. Fatechanger held her breath in anticipation, staring intently at her liege.  _ Punish them,  _ she willed.  _ Punish them for wasting your time, my queen! This dispute clearly isn’t worth your attention. Send them away! No, even better, exile them! Banish them from our sanctuary, never to return-- _

“Have you tried splitting the band in half?” Queen Ebonyshadow leaned forward, eyes bright and innocent. The enemy dragons looked at each other, confused, and turned back to their leader. 

“N-No,” Stygian stuttered out. He was going to explain that it would ruin the precious accessory, but before he could get a word in edgewise, he was interrupted by the queen’s cheerful voice. 

“Well, there you have it! Try cleaving it into two equal parts, so you can both own it!” Stygian and Bonecrusher were sent away with a wave of her claw, and the heavy doors to her chamber were shut behind them. With a huff, Queen Ebonyshadow gracefully slipped off her dias and padded towards her bedchamber. Fatechanger raced after her, admiring the way the deep violet of her scales seemed to absorb the faint light of the glowglobes ensconced in the walls. The thought of how those scales would feel under her talons--cool, smooth,  _ flawless _ \--excited her beyond her capacity to express. Of course, those desires would remain firmly rooted in Fatechanger’s head: As a measly messenger, she didn’t deserve the right to soil the queen with her lowly touch. But… there was no way to tarnish something that wasn’t tangible. And so, Fatechanger maintained her dreams. 

“Excuse me, Your Highness,” Fatechanger meekly forced out, just as the queen reached the door to her private quarters. The queen whirled around, perplexion written across her face. It was soon replaced with delight, once she laid eyes on the little messenger flitting around underneath her. She loved her couriers: They were all so small and thin, like twigs that she could easily snap between her powerful jaws. She supposed that their size made them speedy, but regardless of the reason, it amused her to see the tiny dragons run around delivering packages and postage. 

“Well, hello, little birdling! What have you brought me today?” She held her talons out expectantly. A little tube was placed in the palm, and as Ebonyshadow’s grip closed around it, her talon just  _ barely  _ brushed against Fatechanger’s claw. The feeling sent electricity down the sycophant’s spine, and it was all she could do to suppress a shudder. “A message? Let’s see what it contains,” the queen continued, but Fatechanger was barely listening. She was too busy watching the shadows dance around her queen, overtaking the meager halo of light around them until the world seemed to be filled with nothing but the exquisite darkness. Suddenly, Fatechanger was brought back to her senses with a surprised yelp from the empress. 

“What is it, My Liege?” Fatechanger stepped forward, observing the panic written in Queen Ebonyshadow’s expression. A powerful loathing overtook her: She vowed to destroy whoever had made her queen’s blissfully pure expression twist into that of fear and anger. 

“The IceWings,” she whispered back, absently. “They’re in trouble.” 

~

Apex was getting déjà vu. He nervously fussed over Permafrost, reluctantly moving out of the way whenever Coypu approached with a new concoction that would (hopefully) ease Permafrost’s pain. He felt like a hurricane; Everytime he moved, he inevitably knocked something over in the cramped hut. Coypu didn’t kick him out, as she was secretly touched by this clumsy dolt’s devotion to his companion’s well-being, but that didn’t mean she didn’t give him a firm wack across the snout whenever he knocked something important to the earthen floor. By the fourth shattered pot, Coypu was beginning to think that she had overestimated Bullfrog’s ungainliness and thanked the stars that she hadn’t ended up with someone like  _ this  _ as a mentee. Still, the only punishment Apex received was a cuff or a crack on the head with a wooden object. 

Starfish and Bullfrog were hanging around outside the door, acting as guards--except for when one or both of them were sent into the bog to retrieve more supplies. Apex watched Coypu tirelessly work from dusk until dawn, only taking small breaks here and there to eat or drink. About five hours into her work, when the sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon, Permafrost began to wake up. It took him an entire hour to shake off the last dregs of sleep from his hazy mind, and even then, the IceWing couldn’t quite seem to form words properly. Coypu said that this was a natural side effect of the illness, and that Permafrost’s wakefulness was a good sign, but that did next to nothing to soothe Apex’s distress. The prince talked to his friend for nearly an hour, getting nothing but nonsense babbling in return, until Permafrost succumbed to sleep once more.

“He’s asleep,” Apex murmured thoughtfully. “I thought you said it was a good sign if he was awake? What does it mean if he falls back asleep?”

He didn’t receive a response.

Another hour passed by, with the sun climbing higher in the sky. Apex filled his time with a little investigation of the hut, carefully cataloging the unfamiliar spices, herbs, and strangely colored mixtures in glass vials throughout the room. The shelves on the wall held a variety of skulls, and Apex tried his best not to think about the purpose of those. Eventually, he moved on from probing his surroundings to interrogating Coypu. He figured he should know a bit more about the dragon who just saved his closest friend’s scales--that is, if Permafrost responded to the treatment. 

“So, how long have you been healing?”

“I’ve been doing it for long before you were born, kid, and I’ll be doing it long after you’ve died if the scars on your neck are any indication of the trouble you get yourself into on a regular basis. How did you get those, anyway, and why haven’t you let them heal properly?”

“Ah…” Apex was unprepared for Coypu to turn the cross-examination around on him. He shuffled uncomfortably, his voice lowering to a husky mumble of embarrassment. “Well… the queen’s executioner…?” 

Coypu didn’t even blink. “Is that a statement or a question, boy?”

“Statement. We were…”

“Falsely accused of a crime and sent to Queen Copperhead’s palace to die?”

Apex’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “How did you…?”

Coypu sighed, setting down the jar of honey that she had been trying to work down Permafrost’s throat. “Been there, done that. The benefit about being as old as I am, bucko, is that I’ve seen a lot. I’ve been through a lot. I recognize the executioner's method of choice when I see it, because I’ve disposed of the bodies that bear those marks. What I  _ meant  _ was: How did you get those and  _ survive? _ ”

“I… don’t know,” Apex admitted with an uncertain shrug. “I was dying… and then I wasn’t. Maybe someone saved me.”

“Unlikely,” Coypu huffed. “Perhaps the odds are in your favor. Maybe the great dragons of the past are looking down on you, protecting you from harm. Or perhaps you're just too stubborn to die.” Apex took that as an insult, until her face split into a grin. “I like that. Never give in, kid. Fight until your last breath. The world’s never going to be on your side. Even when things look sunny, that’s just the sun blinding you so you don’t see the knife at your throat until it’s too late.” 

“That’s… dismal,” Apex got the sense that Coypu was trying to motivate him, but she was doing a very poor job of it. 

“Yeah, well…” Her expression darkened. “Take it from someone with experience. The world sucks, but it sucks a little less when you have someone like that little IceWing pet you keep by your side.” She inclined her head towards Permafrost pointedly. 

“He’s not my pet. At one point, he was nothing more than an accessory. But now…” Apex felt a surge of emotions rise within him, and hurried to quell them before they threatened to overtake him.

“Now you don’t know how you feel,” Coypu finished. 

“Exactly. He dominates my thoughts, like a parasite. But… a good parasite. Almost like a… a…” Apex floundered for words, waving his talons in the air as he fruitlessly wracked his brain for a way to describe how he felt about his companion. 

“A paramour?” Coypu looked equal parts unimpressed and amused.

“Yes! That’s--Wait, no! No, no, no, back up! I’m not… in  _ love  _ with him, I just--”

“Think about him, even when you’re not together? Fuss over his health? Long to stay by his side, through thick and thin and everything in-between?”

Apex sat down heavily, his heart beating out of his chest. He was worried Coypu could hear it, as though that was some sort of special skill that witch-doctors alone possessed. “I’m screwed.”

“No, boy, you’re in love.” Coypu sat down with him, patting his golden scales reassuringly. “Don’t waste this feeling. You may never get it again, and with the adventures you two get into… well, you can never truly know how much time either of you have left.”

Hearing her say it like that, Apex realized that she was right. He couldn’t be sure he’d have another opportunity to confess his feelings to Permafrost… that is, if Permafrost pulled through. He opened his mouth to respond when Bullfrog poked his massive head into the hut.

“M-M-M-M-”

“Spit it out, fool!” Coypu snapped at him. 

“MudWing patrol!!” 


	16. Chapter Fifteen

“Have you taken leave of your wits? Why in the world would a  _ SkyWing  _ and an  _ IceWing  _ be traipsing around in a swamp committing crimes?? Do you even realize how absurd you sound?”

“Ma’am, I just need to know if you’ve seen them, not a psychological evaluation.” 

“Of course I haven’t seen them,” Coypu snapped. “But my apprentice, Bullfrog, thinks he might have seen a three-legged frog the other day. Might want to go investigate that.”

  
“Do not mock a member of her majesty’s royal guard. We--”

“Oooo,” she hissed sarcastically, “how terrifying! A member of the royal guard! I’m shaking!” 

“Ma’am--”

“We think highly of ourselves, do we?” Coypu’s voice dripped with scorn as she advanced on the block headed buffoon attempting to intimidate her into a confession. If there was one thing she  _ hated  _ above all else, it was dragons with an inflated sense of self-importance. “For every minute of my time you occupy,  _ sir,  _ you’re preventing me from performing my job. Do you know what my job is?”

The guard nervously tried to edge around her, into the hut that she was currently barring from all entry. “I really don’t have time--”

“You don’t have time,” she barked out, sharp enough to draw his attention back towards her. “Would you like to know who else doesn’t have time? The dragons who are wasting away, thanks to your preoccupation with interrogating the only person that can hope to give them a chance of survival!” 

The stubborn MudWing set his jaw and shouldered past her. “I need to check inside your dwelling. If you truly haven’t seen them, then you have nothing to worry about.” 

“Oh,  _ I  _ have nothing to worry about. I’m immune to The Rot. You, however…” 

Her words made him stop in his tracks, claw poised in mid-air as he was just about to draw the curtain away from the entrance. “The… what?”

“You haven’t heard of it? I’m not surprised, since your level of education seems… dismal.” Coypu sidled up to the larger MudWing’s side, inclining her head towards her hut. “Inside the hut, you’ll find a sickly dragonet. She has an infection that is commonly called The Rot among MudWing clans, as it slowly eats away at a dragon’s neurological cells and causes them to behave erratically. Eventually, it kills the victim. This is why I became a doctor, you monkey-brained clown. It took someone I loved from me, so I’ve dedicated my career to researching a cure. Once you go in, the infection will enter your lungs through the contaminated air that you breathe and work its way towards your brain. I’m trying to help you, you foul leech. On the other hand… I could use another test subject.” She began to push the guard towards the makeshift doorway, and suddenly, he didn’t seem all that eager to enter. 

“Wait--No, no, no, wait! I believe you! I’m sorry for taking up your time!” He dug his claws into the mud, snapped his wings open, and took off faster than Coypu had ever seen a MudWing move.  _ Sometimes,  _ she reflected,  _ being the cranky old swamp lady has its perks.  _

“It’s all clear, you yellow-bellied cowards,” Coypu called over her shoulder. A minute later, her flock of problem children skulked out of the hut like foxes, as if hesitant to believe that the coast was truly clear. A collective sigh passed through the ones that were awake--her harebrained apprentice, the annoyingly bubbly SeaWing, and the royal pain of the SkyWing kingdom--and the sleeping IceWing remained blissfully ignorant that he had ever been in danger. 

“Thank you, for--”

“You should go.” Coypu cut Apex off sharply, nodding towards a line of cliffs in the distance. “They won’t stop until they find you, so you need to get to safer ground. Once you pass into SkyWing territory, you’ll be untouchable; Queen Copperhead is many things, but suicidal isn’t one of them. She wouldn’t dare start a war with Queen Pyre.”

“But… wouldn’t it have started a war if the execution had worked, regardless of where it took place?” Apex was confused, but that wasn’t anything new. He had felt like he was in waaaay over his head for the entirety of this cursed journey. 

“If it takes place on her lands, she can justify it with some random crime that was committed while you were here. Therefore, if your mother declared war on her, she could potentially declare war in return without it looking suspicious. In that case, she could use her alliance with the SeaWings against you. If you’re in SkyWing territory, however, she doesn’t exactly have any proof that you ever even set foot in the marshes. Except eyewitness testimony, but your mother doesn’t strike me as the type of person to listen to what others have to say when her honor has been impugned.”

“Yeah… you’re right about that. You seem to know a lot about politics.” Apex glanced back at Starfish, who was having an animated conversation with Bullfrog. “How did you come to meet Starfish, anyway? Bullfrog and her seem… close.”

Coypu sighed through her nose, letting her eyes wander towards the distant horizon. She appeared lost in thought, and let the silence brew as she contemplated her answer. Finally, she settled on the truth. “I was called to the royal palace a few years ago, to attend to my sister when she fell ill. But… I never got a chance to truly cure her. All I could do was slow her sickness.” 

Slowly, lights were blinking on in Apex’s brain. “So… your story--”

“Was true, except for the fact that it’s not exactly transmissible through air. Me and Bullfrog were the first people they came to when she fell ill.” Coypu’s face was hidden in shadows, but the downward tug of her mouth and waver in her voice spoke of palpable sadness. 

“Oh… I’m so sorry for your loss. Was she… a member of the royal court?”

“You could say that,” Coypu sniffed. “And she isn’t dead. It’s just been eating away at her mind… driving her closer and closer to the brink of insanity with each passing moment. Just when I think it can’t get any worse, she always proves me wrong. You’re living proof of that, Apex. I guess I helped you because I felt… responsible, in some way. It’s my fault that Copperhead is the way she is. After all, if I had found a cure in time…”

“Wait,” Apex cut in, his voice little more than a mystified murmur. “The queen is… your sister?!”

“Why don’t you say it louder, huh?! I don’t think the whole world heard you!”

“But that doesn’t make any sense! Aren’t you older than her?” Apex ignored her warning to keep his voice down, his brain still stuck up on the fact that the grumpy old dragon in front of him was  _ royalty.  _ Like  _ him.  _

“Hey! Never ask about a lady about her age! But if you really want to know how she came to be queen, I conceded the throne. I never wanted to pick up the torch from our mother, and besides, could you imagine me ruling over an entire population of idiots? I can barely deal with Bullfrog!”  _ She has a point,  _ Apex thought, his eyes flicking towards Bullfrog. Him and Starfish had moved past talking and were now chasing each other in circles around the hut. At least they looked happy--or, er, Starfish looked happy. Bullfrog looked terrified. “Copperhead always handled all of the pomp and fame much better than I did, so I thought it was only fit that she ascended to the throne. But the MudWings would never accept her if she didn’t become queen through a trial by combat, and it was our mother’s wish that I succeed her. She wouldn’t let Copperhead win the fight for the throne, I knew that, but…”

“She would let you win,” Apex finished. Coypu nodded. “But how did Copperhead get the throne, then? Isn’t the succession ritual a fight to the death?”

“It is. I devised a plan to get my sister to the throne, by any means necessary. When I told her about my scheming, she was horrified. She didn’t understand why she couldn’t defeat mother the proper way--I suppose she could, but I didn’t want to see her get hurt and I certainly didn’t want her to put her life on the line so that I wouldn’t be trapped in that aristocratic cage. So, I found out when she planned to challenge my mother and got to it before she had the chance. I won the throne, as anticipated, and Copperhead was furious with me. Knowing that she wouldn’t take her rightful place as ruler unless she thought that she defeated the current ruler, I mocked her in the hopes that she would challenge me on her own terms. It wasn’t long until she did--three days, to be exact. And on the fourth day, my reign as queen of the MudWings ended. I hated hurting her, but I had to make the fight seem real and took a small amount of pride in the knowledge that she would have been hurt far worse in a fight with our mother. But something went wrong, and she didn’t finish me off. I guess… she just didn’t have it in her at the time.”

Apex cocked his head to the side. “So… what happened, then? The MudWings wouldn’t accept her until she… you know…” 

“Finished me off? My thoughts exactly. I collapsed for her sake, hoping the final blow would be swift, but it never came. Instead, she leaned over me and whispered: ‘Run.’ So, I ran. Nobody but her knows that I’m still alive, and I doubt they would bother looking for me if they  _ did  _ know. Now, I’m just… Coypu. Not Princess Coypu, not Queen Coypu, just the old hag of the bayou.”

“Do you ever miss it?” Apex questioned.

“The royal life? It’s nice having food given to you on a silver platter, but… no,” Coypu concluded firmly. “I love my work, and the liberty that comes with it. I feel more free than I have in a long time, like I can finally breathe again. I just wish that Copperhead hadn’t gone cuckoo.” 

“You and me both,” Apex said, bitterly. “Are you ever going to explain Permafrost’s illness to me?”

“I could try, but you’re too much of a dunderhead to understand. All you need to know is that he has a twenty percent chance of pulling through, and you have to keep feeding him honey until it’s coming out of his ears. The only way to beat the cough is to soothe it for as long as it takes for his lungs to recover. He’ll probably be wheezing for a long time, even after he gets it out of his system.”

“That sounds less like an  _ if,  _ and more like a  _ when. _ ”

“Yeah,” was all Coypu said before twisting away and shouting at Bullfrog. “Hey, sea slugs! It’s time to go! Say your goodbyes and skedaddle!” 

Apex waited for Starfish to pull Bullfrog into a tight embrace and scurry over to where he stood. As they walked away, the sun rose higher above their heads and flashed off of Permafrost’s radiant scales. The effect was dazzling, and only served to make the sharp pang in Bullfrog’s heart more poignant. 

“Don’t worry, kid,” Coypu rumbled. “They’ll be back.”

“How do you know?” Bullfrog responded softly. 

“I just do. Those three are trouble, and trouble always seems to find a way to return to me.”


	17. Chapter Sixteen

“Are we there yet?” 

“No.”

“How about now?” 

“Can you drown a SeaWing?” Apex asked, holding his claw up. “Because I am  _ this  _ close to doing so!” His talons nearly pinched together, leaving about a fraction of an inch between them. 

“I don’t know, I’ve never tried it. Buuuut… now I’m kinda curious. Bet! Drown me at the next waterfall!” 

“Are you insane, Starfish?! No! I’m not actually—You know what? Just… try to keep quiet. You’re driving me crazy.”

Silence settled between them, broken only by the sound of their claws crunching on gravel. They had entered SkyWing territory after about a week of traveling, and both of them were visibly exhausted by it. Starfish’s emerald scales now flowed a dull seaweed-green, and the dried mud compounded on Apex’s body to turn his golden scales a murky bronze. Apex felt like he would never be warm again, after days of sleeping on cold rocks with an even colder companion. But no matter how heavy Permafrost got, nor how cold his scales felt as they slid against Apex’s back, he bore the IceWing’s weight with renewed invigoration. He had resolved not to hold back any of his feelings, and they were what gave him strength beyond what he thought possible. Love truly was a powerful force—And dangerous, under the right circumstances. 

“Uh… Apex?” 

The prince ignored Starfish, too absorbed in his own thoughts to pay the SeaWing any heed. Insistently, they tried once again to garner his attention. 

“Apex??” 

This time, he heard them. However, his face showed no sign of it: If anything, he looked even  _ more  _ clueless to the fact they were speaking to him. Apex hoped Starfish would get the hint and shut their yap, but it seemed that the SeaWing was determined to annoy him. 

“Apex?!” They yelped.

“WHAT?” He roared back, stopping in his tracks to stomp his claw against the ground. “Why can’t we walk in peace without you bringing up some sort of trivial observation?! ‘Apex, look at the bird! Apex, that mountain looks like you! Apex, Apex, Apex!’ I’m sick of it! There’s better be good, or I swear—!”

Suddenly, something icy smacked into the top of his head. “Honestly, Starfish, how do you put up with him? If I didn’t need him to see, I’d tie him up and leave him for the mountain lions.” 

“P-Permafrost,” Apex stuttered out, relief and awe leaking into his voice. “You’re awake! Starfish, why didn’t you tell me he was awake??” 

Starfish opened their snout, then snapped it shut, deciding that they wouldn’t win this argument. Luckily, Permafrost was there to check him. Oh, how Starfish missed the one dragon who could keep Apex in line. 

“That’s what they were trying to tell you, you dolt! Why do you have to be so obstinate all the time…?” 

“Oh,” was all Apex could think to say in response. He was entirely, unequivocally, much too shocked to pose any of the questions flitting around in his mind, such as:  _ Are you alright? How do you feel? Are you hungry?  _ And so on. Luckily, Permafrost answered the unasked questions of his own accord. 

“How long have we been traveling? The air feels thinner here, so… I’m guessing we reached the mountains. What kind of prey lives in the mountains? I’m starving.” The scary thing was that Permafrost wasn’t exactly exaggerating. He  _ was  _ starving, giving the fact that he hadn’t eaten real food in a week.

“Astute observation,” Apex grumbled. “We’re in the mountains. I could find a goat for you, but then we’d have to stop for the day.” 

“Oh. Well. I’m sorry that I’m such an inconvenience. Maybe I should have died, then, and saved you the trouble,” Permafrost bit back bitterly. 

This wasn’t how he wanted it to go  _ at all.  _ Apex wasn’t sure what he had been expecting when Permafrost woke up, but he had somehow envisioned it to be much more sentimental than this. He didn’t know why he had expected their bond to be deeper somehow—it wasn’t as if Permafrost could suddenly sense how Apex felt. Coupled with the fact that the SkyWing prince had a hard time expressing his true emotions—he had been taught from a young age to push those aside, that they were just distractions and that strong dragons didn’t feel anything—any mutual feeling other than loathing between them would take time to develop. More time than they had. Apex was beginning to wonder if he was just trying to compensate for the fact that he had ruined Permafrost’s life by justifying it with the promise of love. 

“... Apex? I’m sorry,” Permafrost murmured. “That was rude. I know you’ve been worried about me, it’s not fair to say that you don’t care. Honestly, I feel like I’ve been drug through the mud and stomped on several times. My head hurts, and it’s too bright, and my lungs are on fire. The thin air isn’t helping.” 

And there it was. Permafrost always seemed to manage to crumble Apex’s walls with a single phrase, spoken softly but powerful as a hurricane. He knew that he’d have to tell the IceWing, and soon, before he lost his mind imagining the hidden meaning behind every word. “You know what?” Apex said, cheerfully. Starfish gave him a strange look, as if to ask,  _ Why’re you so happy?  _ “You’re right, Permafrost. We should pace ourselves. Plus, this is Starfish’s first time in SkyWing territory! We should acquaint them with it before continuing on. How about we go to that overhang?” He pointed towards it for Starfish’s sake. They gave him a strange look, due in part to his strange reversal in attitude and the fact that they really  _ didn’t  _ have the luxury of taking a break at this point. Still, Starfish shrugged and did as they were instructed, figuring that Apex had a reason for veering them off-course.  _ Surely, the SkyWing prince wouldn’t drop everything and make an irrational decision, simply because his friend complained of being a bit sore,  _ Starfish thought. 

They would be wrong. 

Apex felt like a coward. Every time his proclamation of ardor rose to his mouth, he couldn’t seem to push it past his firmly locked jaws.  _ What is happening to me?  _ Apex asked himself as he slipped underneath the overhang. He felt as though his mind and his tongue were at odds with one another. He was an enemy unto himself, caught in a deadlock between what he wanted and what was right. Apex knew he shouldn’t love Permafrost—that was just common sense. Thinking about it logically, there was no way that a relationship between them would work. Furthermore, would Permafrost feel pressured to say he returned the feelings, simply because he had been held captive up to this point? Was it stupidity or selfishness that made Apex want to try anyway? 

Permafrost was just settling down, curling up into a ball with a pleased look on his face. The birds soared past the cave, singing their love songs to one another in melodic harmony.  _ It’s now or never,  _ Apex knew. So, before he could second-guess himself, (because doubt meant silence) the bulky SkyWing opened his mouth to confess.

And was horrified by what came out instead.

“Permafrost… I’m going to take you back home.” 


	18. Chapter Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay--I admit: This one was a little rushed. Whoops! Regardless, I hope you guys enjoy and I'll (hopefully) be able to devote more time to the next one!

“What?!” Starfish exclaimed, tugging Apex away. “What were you thinking?! Why would you suggest that, huh?? I hope you don’t seriously believe he wants to go back there!!!”

“It’s his home,” Apex reasoned, albeit without much conviction. “Of course he’d want to go back. I’m the one who stole him from there anyway, the least I can do is give him his freedom.” 

“He doesn’t want freedom, he wants you,” Starfish hissed. “And even if he  _ did  _ want to go back, how do you think he’s gonna survive on his own, huh? He’s blind and practically mutilated! You know how IceWings treat another dragon that’s outlived their usefulness!”

Unfortunately, Apex knew all too well. IceWings were customarily cold to their own kind and even colder to outsiders. The best welcoming gift Permafrost could expect to receive from his people would be a swift death, to put him out of his misery and make room for functional dragonets. They approached kinship like they approached most things: with chilly, calculated logistics. Almost no emotion was involved in decision-making, Which was part of what made them so quick to act in the face of a dilemma. All this and more, Apex had studied in his diplomatic training. 

“Well, what do you suggest I do? He can’t stay with me, he’ll be miserable!” Apex groused, stamping his foot on the ground. A cascade of pebbles rained down the ledge they were standing beside. 

“You want to send him home?”

“Yes!” 

“Apex,” Starfish chided, “not everyone sees the place that they were born as home. Do you feel like you’re home whenever you walk through the halls of the palace?”

“I—“The words caught in his throat, and he shook his head. “This isn’t about me!” 

“You’re right. This is about Permafrost. I know what it's like to be a pawn for those in power, Apex. I don't ever want to go back to it, but I don't want to go to the sea either. Home isn't about where you're from or where you live: It isn't a place. It's a feeling. Do you think Permafrost feels any more at home with the IceWings than you do with the SkyWings?” 

Apex was taken aback by the bluntness of their words, but he knew that they were right. Permafrost had often expressed how unhappy he had been in his old home, how he had felt trapped by the whims of those higher in the food chain than himself. It would be bordering on cruel to send him back now, especially if Queen Holly had already received the vehemently angry letter that his mother had sent out a few weeks ago. Even now, Permafrost was gloomy sitting in the corner with his head bowed to stare at the ground below his claws; even though he wasn’t actually  _ seeing  _ anything, it was nevertheless an effective method of pouting. 

“I don’t know where his home is, Starfish,” Apex breathed out. “I obviously don’t even know where my own home is. I don’t know what to do. I just wanted him to be happy, but I only ever seem to mess up.” 

“Hey, come on, don’t be like that.” Starfish tapped one of their green claws against his chest, directly over his heart. “You and Permafrost will be just fine, but you have  _ got  _ to stop assuming that you know what’s right for him. He’s a big boy, he can make his own decisions. He’ll tell you where he wants to be, when he wants to go, and how he wants to get there. Besides, you two are in a wonderful position right now.”

“We are?” Apex asked, dubiously. 

“Yes,” Starfish hissed conspiratorially. Apex hated when they got that look on their face: the one that practically screamed  _ trouble.  _ “You're in a perfect position to elope! Find your home together!” 

“I--”

“Are you two talking about me?” Permafrost had lifted his head up and swung it in their general direction, his good ear swiveling towards them to better catch their voices in the wind. “Why are you whisper-yelling?”

“No--” Apex started.

“Yes,” Starfish said over him. “We are talking about you.”

“Is this about what Apex said earlier?” Permafrost dragged himself to his feet with some difficulty, swaying a little. He was still a little weak from his sickness, but he wouldn’t let that keep him down. “It’s not a big deal. I get it. I’m a liability. Nobody wants to keep something that isn’t either amusing or useful to them.”

“Yes! No! Wait!” Apex floundered for words, feeling desperation clawing at his chest. “That’s not what I meant, Permafrost. I’m not trying to get rid of you--”

“I know.” Permafrost padded towards him on nimble feet. He stopped in front of Apex, the hollows of his face hidden in shadow. “Which is why I have to do it for you.”

“Permafrost… you don’t seriously think you’re a burden, do you?” Apex’s question didn’t receive a response, other than a half-hearted sigh. He tried again. “I would have left you on that rock if I thought you were a hindrance. You’re so much more than that!”

“Apex, what do you think was going to happen to me after I assassinated you? Once I returned to my homeland?”

Apex shuffled his tail uncomfortably. “I don’t--”

“I would be killed. Swiftly. Less evidence, and the queen gets to keep her claws clean. No one would know, no one would care. It’d be like I never existed. I know the score, Apex. I’ve only survived this long because I served a purpose. There are hundreds of others just like me, just waiting for a chance to prove themselves.”

Apex didn’t know how to respond. Luckily, he didn’t have to, because Permafrost continued on. Starfish stared at him intensely, green eyes unreadable. 

“They take that from you, you know. They teach you how to distance yourself from ambition, desire, and greed. You become little more than a machine. And once you break down, that’s it. Everyone in my guild understands how expendable we are, but nobody cares, because part of us is already dead. They kill our consciousness and strip us of our identities. I don’t fear death, Apex. It’s simply the end of my mission. You’re the only thing keeping me from finishing my last job in life.” 

No sound but the wind whistling through the various nooks and crannies in the rocks permeated the deafening silence around the three of them. The words hit Apex like a boulder--in equal parts saddening and fearful. Had Permafrost really lived his life like that? With the knowledge that his life was as easily thrown away as it had been brought into Pyrrhia? Had that cruel reality truly been perpetuated in his mind from a young age? Finally, Starfish was the first to speak.

“You still haven’t killed Apex, though. So technically, you can’t move on from this mission until you finish it, right? As long as Apex is alive, you’ve gotta hang in there.” 

Permafrost swung his head towards her, shock playing on his delicate but imperfect features. He opened his jaw, snapped, it shut, then opened it again in what looked like a poor imitation of a fish gasping for breath. Someone, in some way, the mood among the gathered dragons seemed to lift from dismal to lively. Starfish inclined their head towards him, grinning conspiratorially, as if they had just won a gamble. 

“Checkmate, Snowcone! Now that you’re done wallowing in misery, my stomach as the grumplies and it demands grub! So, Apex, either you go find food or I’ll eat you myself!”

Apex smiled, shaking his head ruefully. “Okay, Okay. I get it. You’re so needy.”

“You know you love me,” Starfish teased. 

“Are you taking requests? I still want a goat,” Permafrost cut in. 

“You two will be the death of me,” Apex grumbled, but he was happier than he had felt in a long time. “Alright. I’ll look for a goat, but you better eat all of it!” Permafrost waved him off non-committedly, and Apex took off with a playful scoff. 


	19. Chapter Eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's had a good rant about their feelings, and things are looking up for our gang of misfits! Now that they're all together and on the move, nothing could possibly go wrong! Right? Right??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a little innuendo in this chapter, I just couldn't help myself. You have been warned!

“I’m back!” Apex called, swooping onto the outcropping where they had made camp for the night. Dusk had long-since fallen, and the last rays of light were fading beyond the horizon, turning the sky into a pastel myriad of color. It would have been pretty, had Apex not been worried about flying in complete darkness. Even for him, who was so accustomed to rocky terrain, flying in pitch-black conditions wasn’t ideal. A heavy frown crossed his face as he peered into the shadows of the shallow cave underneath the overhang, having not received a response to his announced return. As he was setting the mountain goat onto the ground, however, he caught a blink of light within the shallow cave and heard a stifled giggle. “Okay,” he began, amused, “come out. I’m too hungry for games.”

“Uggghhhh, you’re no fun!” Starfish padded out of the darkness and into the rising moonlight, their scales sparkling like emeralds. “I just wanted to do a bit of morse.”

“Yeah, yeah, we can play glow-tag later.” Apex was about to tear into the carcass, but something stayed his claws. It started as a feeling, an absent curiosity that made him feel as though he was forgetting something. That thought only seemed to snowball until it nearly consumed him with the awareness of a missing piece of the puzzle. He felt hollow, as though someone had reached into his chest and pulled a vital part of him away. Then, in a flash, it hit him. “Hey… where’s Permafrost?” 

“Where’s what?” Starfish questioned, their mouth full. They hadn’t waited for his hesitation to pass, their hunger overriding their concern over his perceived trepidation. 

Apex blinked at them, incredulous. “You know… one-third of our entire party? The one who’s been sick this whole time? The reason we went to Coypu??”

“Ooooooh.” Starfish sat back on their haunches, wiping blood from their mouth with the back of their claw. “I guess I just got used to him being absent from meals. He’s probably sleeping.” They twisted around, calling into the shadows. “Hey, Frosty! Soup’s on!”

No sound came from within the cave. Starfish just shrugged and continued eating, assuming that the IceWing either hadn’t heard or didn’t care, but something felt wrong to Apex. The big dragon stood, shook himself off, and walked towards the eerily silent alcove. 

“Hey, aren’t you going to have some of this?” Starfish asked from behind him, probably referring to the goat. 

“Later,” Apex replied absently. Right now, all thoughts of food were long gone. He plunged into the gloom, claws scraping against the floor as he padded around in a wide circle, wing brushing against the wall. Every step only made the feeling of loss worse, until he completed his rotation and rooted himself in the spot he had begun his search. Apex was torn between panic and an objective calm that served to dampen the calamity of thoughts whizzing through his mind.  _ He’s gone,  _ he observed, at the same time as he internally screamed. 

“Is he gonna stop pouting and come eat?” Starfish goaded near the entrance. Apex turned in a slow circle, wondering halfway into the light. Immediately, Starfish could tell that something was horribly wrong. Apex’s face was frozen, half hidden in shadow and half stone-cold. 

“Apex?” They said, tentatively. Probing for a reaction. Anything was better than that look of utter stoicism. 

Starfish, however, soon learned that they were wrong. 

Because the next thing Apex did was dog his claws into the ground and roar loud enough to shake the mountains. 

  
  


~

“Is this the right one?” 

Queen Ebonyshadow slid her eyes up from the letter she was writing to see a small dragon, beaming in delight as she presented her beloved queen with an IceWing… dragonet? His horns were fully grown, but he was abnormally small for his apparent age. Her gaze dipped back down to her desk, whereupon lay a letter from her cold-hearted compatriot: Queen Holly. Hastily scribbled onto its surface was a description of the dragon that Queen Ebonyshadow was to hunt down, and the ruler of the NightWings was all too eager to oblige. The physical characteristic on the paper aligned with the little dragon that she was being presented with, with the exception that he appeared a bit more emaciated than one might imagine.  _ I suppose being imprisoned by the SkyWings will do that to you,  _ Ebonyshadow thought, idly fiddling with the corner of the parchment. 

“It appears so, birdling! But before I inform Holly, I’d like to confirm his identity.” 

“Ah,” her little messenger appeared reluctant to obey. “What if he tries to hurt you, my queen? I will protect you, of course, but--”

Queen Ebonyshadow drew herself to her full height, casting her shadow over both of the other dragons in the room. Her voice boomed against the cavern walls. “Do you doubt my ability to defend myself? Do not forget your place.”

Immediately, the little twig of a dragon fell into a low, subservient bow. “Of course not, my liege! I’ll untie him immediately!” With one last dip of her head in reverential respect, the queen’s minion set to undoing the bonds that kept Permafrost in place. One by one they fell to the ashen floor, but the IceWing stayed perfectly still under the feather-light touch that was swiftly freeing him of his bonds. That changed when the mouthpiece was removed, however, as Permafrost couldn’t resist lashing out at the talons brushing against his face. He received a smack on the snout in response; not gentle, like the ones Apex used to tap him with, but a stunning blow that left Permafrost momentarily startled. 

“Welcome to the NightWing palace, my friend! As you can see…” The voice trailed off, and Permafrost felt warm claws making contact with his cheek, tilting his face one way and then the other. “I suppose you can’t see,” the voice amended. “Then, I’ll just have to explain it to you! But first, are you hungry?”

“I’m getting really sick of being kidnapped,” Permafrost muttered darkly. The claws on his cheek dug into the skin, but he didn’t give his captor the satisfaction of showing his pain. 

“I’m not your first, then?” The voice held a pout in it. “That’s a shame. The first one’s always special.” While he couldn’t see their expression, he was pretty sure he was being winked at. His lips pulled back into a snarl, contorting his already disfigured features. “Oh, don’t do that. You were ugly enough as it is.”

“What do you want?” Permafrost spat back. 

“Did you honestly think that there wouldn’t be any repercussions when you miserably failed the most important job in your pitiful existence?” The mysterious dragon laughed contemptuously. “You’ve made Queen Holly  _ very  _ upset, you little nuisance. And any problem of Holly’s is a problem of mine.”

“Who are you?” Permafrost was wary now. He was uncomfortably aware of the tightrope he was walking, and the yawning abyss stretching below his talons, should he falter. 

“Hm,” the voice hummed. “You don’t recognize my voice? I’m Queen Ebonyshadow, supreme authority among the NightWings and one of the most powerful dragons in Pyrrhia. Though, I suppose it isn’t surprising that a simple.minded peon such as yourself doesn’t know who I am.”

But Permafrost wasn’t listening to her. 

Because, despite her insults, he  _ did  _ know who she was. He recognized the subtle cadence of her voice. The lofty tone, the poorly-disguised contempt.

It was the same voice he had heard on the day his world had changed. 

The day the IceWing rebels had been massacred in their sleep.

The day he had lost his brother and became enslaved by the IceWing’s assasination corps. 

~

“I… I fell asleep,” Starfish murmured, shamefully. “I didn’t even notice him leaving… I’m a horrible friend…” 

“No,” Apex sighed tiredly. They had been fruitlessly searching for hours, striking camp to wander in the darkness. Logically, the prince knew that this would do nothing but exhaust the both of them, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to rest until he found Permafrost. “Don’t blame yourself, Starfish. It’s no one’s fault. I’m more concerned with the fact that he left in the first place. Did I make him feel unwanted?”

“Look who’s blaming themselves now,” Starfish weakly joked. “But seriously… it wasn’t you, Apex. Trust me. He always seems happier around you.” 

“Really? He always seems kind of cranky to me.” 

“That’s just his personality! He’s perpetually moody. It’s what makes him so lovable!”

Apex smiled to himself, carefully stepping over a prickly bush growing up through a cleft in the rock below. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

“I mean, honestly, he’s lost without you. You should have seen him in the MudWing dungeons, he was worse than you were! All mopey and lonely. It was super sad, which is why I laughed so hard when he told me about how you two met. It’s hilarious that he tried to assassinate you, and your response was to fall head over horns for him. I mean--”

“Wait. What did you just say?”

“That you… fell for him harder than a bag full of gold bars down a cliff?”

“What? No, before that,” Apex mumbled distractedly, claws brushing over a shiny black object on the ground. It almost resembled…

“The whole assaination thing? That’s in the past, right? Wait, whaddya got there, buckeroo?”

Apex held up the scale for Starfish to see. It was exactly as he had feared. A stone seemed to sink in his stomach, making him feel queasy. 

“I think Permafrost is in danger.”

“And this scale has something to do with it,” Starfish concluded, a question lingering in their voice. When Apex didn’t clarify, they prompted him for more. “What do the NightWings have to do with Permafrost? Don’t they refuse to get involved in the affairs of other dragons?”

“Usually,” Apex’s voice wavered, and he cleared his throat. “But recently, their newest queen has been getting rather cozy with Queen Holly.” 

“Queen Holly?” Starfish scrunched up their snout. “But what--” Understanding crept into their eyes, and the realization was powerful enough to knock them back a step when it hit them. Their eyes met Apex’s molten ones in the dark. “Oh, shhhhhhellfish.”

“Shellfish,” Apex agreed. 


	20. Chapter Nineteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Apex and Co. struggle in the wake of Permafrost's kidnapping, a new danger lurks below the surface...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've started adding short summaries at the beginning of chapters, they'll usually be about one to two sentences. Thank you all for reading, and enjoy the nineteenth (has it really been that many?) installment in this cuckoo adventure!

Since she was a child, Condor had always heard things she wasn’t supposed to hear. Knew things she shouldn’t know. Had been places that she  _ couldn’t  _ have gone to. Of course, she had never shared this with anyone--not even her beloved brother, Apex. Everyone had their secrets, and Condor felt entitled to hold her own close to her chest. Granted, nothing remained a secret to the princess herself: Even if the dragon in question wasn’t even aware of what they were keeping locked in their subconscious, Condor saw through the cognitive bars keeping whatever it was shut away from the world. She saw what lay beyond, deep within the hearts and minds of dragons. It used to scare her, when she was a dragonet. 

She was not a dragonet anymore. 

Her claws clicked against the stone as she evenly walked towards her mother’s chamber, making her stride as ponderous as possible to show that she wasn’t concerned by the summons. Her mother’s spies were watching her every step, she knew. It wouldn’t do to have them feeding her the tales of Condor’s apprehension, how she had practically slunk to the cavern with her tail tucked between her legs; No, Queen Pyre would love that. Condor  _ was not  _ about to give her that satisfaction, not anymore. She was a grown dragon, capable of levying war and proclaiming peace and she  _ was not afraid.  _

But when she reached the room and the gilded doors swung shut behind her, Condor felt her traitor of a heart flutter in her chest. Her mother almost never called her for a meeting, especially one as personal as this. Their encounters were always brief and usually only occurred either at the dinner table or during events which required both the queen and the princess’ attention. For Condor to be called so suddenly could only mean two things, both of which would end in eventual death. The deadly game of succession between mother and daughter; Neither side played fair, and neither side truly won in the end. 

“Condor,” her mother greeted, without much warmth. She was sitting at her desk, reviewing documents which had been presented to her in court or through mail carriers. 

“Mother,” Condor returned the chilly greeting, sitting on a nearby ledge before she had been given express permission to do so. Queen Pyre’s eyes narrowed fractionally. It was a game within a game that the two of them had played, just another step in the routine they had been building since Condor had been brought into the cutthroat and unforgiving world of bureaucracy. 

“I see you’ve been rather relaxed in the interim of your brother’s absence.” Her mother looked away, and Condor took a moment to celebrate that small victory. The war was yet to be won, but each successful battle tipped the odds in Condor’s favor. She didn’t have long to celebrate, however. “Perhaps I should send you to look for him. He’s been gone for abnormally long, has he not?”

Condor was agitated. It would only complicate things if her mother began to suspect that something was amiss. Though, the pillars the princess had built were too strong to be taken down by a little tremor of doubt. “You know how he is. Galavanting around the world, spending an obscene amount of time admiring landmarks… Perhaps he’s found an interesting rock formation.”

Her mother, having purposes other than discussing her son’s well-being, just snorted in contempt. “Perhaps. Well, it’s no matter. So long as he arrives in time to meet his fiancée, he can ponder the earth to his heart’s content.”

The mood in the room shifted at the mention of Apex’s soon-to-be partner. The dance turned into a waltz, slow and deliberate, each party trying not to step on the others’ toes. Condor affected an air of indifference, nonchalantly scraping her talons against the floor. “I suppose you’re right,” Condor hummed absentmindedly. 

Her mother dragged herself away from her work to stand in front of Condor’s perch. “I wanted to discuss that particular business with you, my dear. I can tell you don’t approve of her, and I wanted to give you a chance to air your grievances before the ceremony commences.”

_ Give you a chance. Before the ceremony.  _ Condor’s acute ears picked up on the implications, and they dug into her like claws. As if her mother was  _ permitting  _ her to express her opinion. As if her opinion didn’t matter.  _ Before the ceremony commences.  _ It was clear that the union would continue as planned, no matter what Condor had to say on the subject. “I don’t think Smoke is the correct choice. Would it not be more logical to wed him to the SeaWing princess? Their pact with the MudWings is feeble at best, compulsory at worst. If we could just align ourselves through--” 

“That fish?” Queen Pyre wrinkled her snout, making her look four times older than she usually looked. “I’m not interested in Princess Carp. We must keep the bloodline pure.” 

“Princess Clam, mother,” Condor corrected. She didn’t like Clam any more than her mother did, but she--at least--treated her fellow monarchs with a basic level of respect. “And  _ I’ll  _ keep the bloodline pure. It doesn’t matter, since my daughter will be inheriting the kingdom.”

“Dear,” Pyre said sweetly.  _ Fakely.  _ “I know you don’t know much about running a kingdom yet, so I’ll excuse your ignorance. You must foresee threats from all angles, whether or not they are legally able to remove you from a position of power.” 

“Are you implying that Apex’s children will attempt to overthrow my reign?” Condor bristled. It irked her that her mother thought that she hadn’t already considered this scenario--and prepared for it, for that matter.  _ If Copperhead had just done her job… _

“Anything is possible. That’s all I’m saying.” Queen Pyre raised her claws defensively, talong twitching reflexively. “And the last thing the SkyWing kingdom needs is a half-breed ruling over it. Can you imagine the instability that would cause? There would be a movement to assassinate the usurper, and then the kingdom would be in absolute chaos… I’m simply looking out for my people.” 

Condor masked her derision behind a mask of understanding. “Of course.” She dipped her head in respect, though it was mechanical and feigned. “Have you informed Apex that he’s to be marrying Smoke?”

“I haven’t had the chance, what with him prancing around Pyrrhia with that ridiculous pet of his. I do hope he gets rid of it soon. It’s an eyesore, and a reminder that he’ll never be strong enough to rule the kingdom. A leader must be prepared to get their hands dirty, and he seems to think that showing mercy will encourage kindness. Mercy is weakness, and inspires rebellion.”  _ Finally,  _ Condor thought,  _ something we agree on.  _ Though, Condor wasn’t about to outwardly concede to her mother’s point. Besides, she almost felt bad for her naive sibling. It was clear he was trying to be noble, but the path of gallantry was paved in betrayal. Give the masses an inch, and they’ll take a mile.

“Is that all you needed, mother?”  _ To boast about your plot and issue a poorly concealed threat upon your only heir?  _ Condor didn’t bother trying to conceal the hidden meaning behind her words with a cheery tone. Queen Pyre, as was expected of the SkyWing queen, didn’t take the affront well. But, for now, she said nothing of it. Merely turned to gaze out her window, not eager to give Condor the satisfaction of seeing her tongue flick out in agitation. 

“Yes,” Queen Pyre replied. “You may go.” 

As Condor was leaving the chamber, she couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of the letter her mother had been working on before Condor had entered. She didn’t pause to read the contents, lest she alert her mother to her snooping, but she did manage to read the opening line.

‘Queen Selkie,

In response to your proposal…’

Ah, so that was the game her mother was playing.  _ Yes,  _ Condor reflected as she caught her mother’s eye out of the corner of her own,  _ now I see it.  _ The web of lies were tangling, amassing, taking shape. 

_ Poor Princess Clam. She’ll arrive in the kingdom, expected to be courted by a suitor of significant social strata. Instead, the only thing to touch her heart will be the icy claws of Death. What a tragic romance.  _


	21. Chapter Twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The game continues, and a new player has entered the playing field...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly... I've been getting a huge case of writer's block lately! Coupled with random stress, I've been taking a small break from writing. I'll still be coming out with chapters, they just might take longer. My creativity has hit a low point, so I'd like to take more time with the chapters to ensure to make sure that they're consistent with the rest of the series. As always, enjoy the new chapter! I appreciate the feedback!!

“I believe I’ve won.” The SeaWing held his claws out expectantly, talons twitching greedily at the prospect of promised gold. When it wasn’t provided immediately, his gills flared in agitation. “Oi, squirt. Pay up.”

“I think you’ve read the board wrong.” She wasn’t a sore loser. Quite the opposite, in fact. Being in that she was expected to lose, she had learned to accept defeat with all the grace befitting a queen. But she  _ refused _ \--absolutely  _ rejected  _ the idea--of losing to the sexist pile of blubber that sat before her. 

“Eh? I ain’t read anythin’ wrong. Maybe you’re the one who’s read it wrong.” Again, the dragons talons twitched. This time, however, it was at the possibility and imagination of violence.  _ There’s nothing more dangerous than a prideful dragon,  _ she reminded herself. A quick survey of the situation made it clear that she was outnumbered: Several patrons of the run-down tavern were looking her way, eyes drifting towards the cloak draped around her shoulders, most likely wondering who she was underneath the roughspun cloth. It wasn’t often that she got the opportunity to come onto land and visit the guards posted here, and each time, she remained unimpressed. 

“You’ve read it wrong,” she simply stated once again, making no move to point out the mistake he had made. If he didn’t see it by now, it was useless to try and explain. Or… perhaps he knew exactly what he was doing, and was trying to gip an innocent dragoness--barely more than a dragonet, mind you--out of every coin she was currently carrying in the pouch by her hip. Luckily, it seemed as though gold was the only metal he was interested in. He didn’t seem to see the way her claws gleamed unnaturally in the low-lit lounge, the way the silver refracted when it caught the flicker of a candle’s flame in its reflection. 

“I’m not playin’ games, kid,” the SeaWing growled out. A few of his friends began to rise at nearby tables. She pretended not to notice. 

“I thought that was exactly what we were doing.” She swept her claws towards the board, catching the way his eyes narrowed as she moved.  _ Did he see? No, he’s just anticipating an attack. Tch. Nobody who's scared of getting hurt should incite a brawl.  _

“You think I’ll go easy on you, just because you’re a kid?” They were all up now, standing at a cautious distance as they awaited their leader’s command.  _ These are the brutes that guard the royal palace? Chivalry truly has died,  _ she thought, bitterly. They were nothing more than a pack of beasts, hanging on their alpha’s every order. Rabid pack animals, unable to think for themselves. Their leader, unable to think beyond his own profit. 

She let herself lean forward, the deep indigo of her scales blending in with the dark atmosphere and casting shadows across her snout. “Are you threatening me?”

“You wanna test that theory?” The SeaWing smiled, then. Actually  _ smiled.  _ As if he wasn’t about to brutally assault and mug another dragon over a simple board game and a few spare coins. 

“Are you sure you want to make that move?” The line was one used often in the particular game they had just finished, one used to instill doubt in your opponents. If used correctly, it could be a powerful weapon: Words were often the most powerful ammunition one possesses. If used incorrectly, it’s little more than an empty intimidation. Now, though, a flicker of hesitation broke through the Seawing’s resolute facade. And, in the face of uncertainty, dragons panic. 

When dragons panic, they make rash decisions.  _ Stupid  _ decisions. 

Rather than cue his companions--his pride having been affronted--he made the mistake of taking it upon himself to make the first charge. She saw it coming in the way his muscles bunched, his webbed claws scratching the stump they were playing on until deep furrows were gouged into the soft wood. 

_ He’ll jump at me, hoping to catch me unawares.  _

He did. However, her surprise was merely a feint. As he closed in, her talons flashed out, each of them gilded in sharpened silver. They were merely enhancements made to her existing talons, metal claws that fit snugly over her organic ones. They moved swift as a river and smooth as the current. 

_ Now, to the left.  _

She pulled right as he leaned left, relishing in the glimmer of surprise in his muddy blue eyes when his target wasn’t where it had been mere seconds before. Time seemed to slow to witness this one moment, to hold it like it was something to be cherished. The air crackled with energy; That of the good-for-nothing thief, his companions, and her own rapid pulse contributed to the electricity of this instant. Then, in a flash, it was over. She hadn’t aimed to kill, but one would have thought that she had hit his heart, from the way he keened. Her claws were sunk about two inches into the soft scales of his chest, scraping against bone as they found his ribcage. With that, the fight was over before it had even begun. 

His little minions scattered, some discreetly leaving the tavern while others scrambled towards exits.  _ The royal guard, ladies and gents,  _ she thought, sarcastically. A whimper left her opponent as her talons slid out and away, and she rolled her eyes under her hood. 

“Disgusting,” she murmured, wiping her now-slick claws on a nearby napkin. The SeaWing guard seemed to think she was talking to him, and pitifully moaned about being injured. “Oh, would you stop complaining? It’s not fatal, but if you keep whining, I’ll ensure that it  _ is. _ ”

“The queen will hear of this,” he gasped. “You cannot expect to attack her majesty’s guard and get away with it! I’ll have your head for this!”

She mocked him under her breath in a high-pitched voice, adding a few choice words to her mimikry. “Shut up,” she groaned, when she could no longer stand it. “You aren’t going to tell Her Majesty anything.”

“And why’s that?” His voice took on an incredulous, challenging tone. 

“You claim that you protect the royal family, yes?” 

“I serve Her Majesty and…”

“And? Last time I checked, the royal family consisted of two dragons. Here, allow me to help you refresh your memory.” She flicked back the hood of her simple brown cloak, letting the low lamplight wash over her indigo scales, the grey eyes that seemed to bore into him, just as her claws had moments before. 

“But… it can’t be… you’re…”

~Elsewhere~

“PRINCESS CLAM?!”

Finnigan was  _ so _ getting fired for this. 

A whole dragon. 

Twelve hours. 

He had managed to lose a  _ whole dragon  _ in  _ twelve hours.  _

But his suffering didn’t end there. 

Oh, no. 

That  _ particular  _ dragon just happened to be the second most important entity in the SeaWing kingdom. 

The only heir to the throne. The first of her name. The only surviving descendant of royal blood left. 

“Princess Clam!!” Finnigan called out, desperate. It wasn’t as if he expected her to pop out of nowhere in response to his summons, but it felt better than just staring, dumbfounded, at the spot where she had disappeared. At least he could tell himself that he was  _ trying.  _ He turned over a rock, watching a disgruntled crab scuttle away as it’s home was disturbed. He didn’t think she’d be hiding under a rock that was about one-third of her size… but, again, checking every nook and cranny in and around the royal family’s shore-estate made Finnigan feel slightly less useless. 

“Princess--!” He choked on his own words, forcing them back down as a member of the royal guard came into vision. The dragon stared at Finnigan strangely, as though he looked extremely out of place. He probably did, holding a rock and sweating like an icicle in the summer sun. “H-Hello, sir! Ma’am! Nothing to report, everything is in tip-top shape!”

The guard in question just shrugged and walked off to their post, leaving Finnigan a nervous wreck. If he didn’t find her soon… if the queen found out that he had lost her  _ again _ … 

“This is bad. This is so very bad. This is so so so so baaaaaddd,” he hissed under his breath. “If she finds out, she’s going to hang me out to dry, like a piece of seaweed. And then the seagulls will peck my eyes out, and I’ll shrivel up in the sun, and--”

“I always knew that you had an active imagination,” a voice behind him mused. It almost sounded like…

“Princess!” He yelped and spun around, beaming in relief. “I was so worried!”

“About me? Or about yourself?” Princess Clam stood behind him, holding herself as a royal should: dignified, elegant, with a slight air of superiority hinted in her posture and the way she gazed down her snout at him. He trembled under her gaze, shrinking lower to the ground, as if that would absolve him of his self-centeredness. 

“B-Both, princess... “

She stared at him for a long while, eyes glinting like hidden daggers, before she blinked lazily and looked away. “At least you’re honest. Are the preparations for my journey to the SkyWing kingdom underway?” She stalked down the hall, away from her “advisor”--really, Finnigan was nothing more than a glorified babysitter. 

“Yes,” he scrambled after her, nodding in affirmation. “Your bags are being packed as we speak. Now, about where you were…”

She stopped in the middle of the hallway, the air around her growing chilly. Finnigan shivered, involuntarily. “What about it?” 

“It’s my job to know where you are at all times…”

“I’m right here.” She turned, raising an eyebrow at her advisor like he was speaking nonsense. “What more is there for you to know?”

“Well… I’d appreciate it if you told me what you’ve been doing all day…”

“Noted.” She gracefully swung around the corner and out of Finnigan’s sight. He raced to trail after her. 

“Princess--” They were nearing the door of her personal chamber. Finnigan began to grow desperate. 

“That’s me.” Under her breath, she muttered, “Unfortunately.”

“If you could just--”

“I can’t.”

“But I really need to--”

“You don’t.”

“But--!”

She swung the door closed in Finnigan’s face, letting out a low groan as she heard his muffled pleas through the doorway.  _ I’ve had a long day,  _ she thought, plopping into her nest of plush cushions.  _ But, in the end of the say, this is all a political game. And,  _ with a low chuckle, she eased herself deeper into her bed,  _ I’m quite good at winning games.  _


	22. Chapter Twenty-One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, that was a short writer's block. 
> 
> FYI, I'm going to be bringing in characters a lot more frequently, both for plot reasons and because it helps me creatively express myself to create so many personalities. I'll try to update the tags, but honestly... I keep forgetting XP

Four full hours of following a NightWing, and the only information they had gleaned was that he preferred the color blue over purple. Four. Tortuous. Unending. Hours. Apex couldn’t fathom how a dragon could be so incredibly  _ boring.  _

But boring wasn’t the right word. Not exactly. 

The coal-black NightWing that he and Starfish had been tailing was far from ordinary. His scales were smooth and unblemished, like they hadn’t been exposed to the outside elements in years. By the way he had examined every plant and misshapen rock he happened to come across, he probably  _ hadn’t  _ left his cave in a very long time. He kept a diary, scrawling down every miniscule detail such as the color of the sky at a particular time or the way a certain leaf smelled compared to another. 

Starfish was the only thing standing between their inquisitive subject and Apex’s wraith, ironic as it was. Normally, the spunky SeaWing’s attention span was less than that of a salamander’s, but they seemed entirely focused on finding Permafrost. Perhaps it was guilt over losing him in the first place that motivated them, or maybe Starfish felt the heaviness of the silence that had taken the place of the IceWing’s snappy retorts just as much as Apex. Nevertheless, the fact remained that Starfish kept Apex in line, all so that they could follow this NightWing back to his queen. 

It was a task that was proving easier to say, harder to perform. 

“Oh!” The NightWing had made another discovery. His dark claws probed at a nearby tree, long-since eaten from the inside out by mites. A couple of them scuttled out from the shelter of their shell, only to be plucked from the bark by the same claws that had prompted them to investigate. To his watcher’s horror, the NightWing then proceeded to pop one of them into his mouth. He bit down with a sickening  _ crunch  _ that made Starfish wince and Apex shutter. “Hm,” he hummed, thoughtfully, as he chewed. Then, he got out the notebook--that accursed notebook--and started scribbling something down.

Starfish tried not to gag, so as not to give away their position. They knew that MudWings sometimes ate bugs from their time in the swamps surrounding the palace, but she had never seen a dragon  _ actually  _ consume one, let alone a lofty NightWing. Unless Starfish had been specifically instructed that they  _ had  _ to eat it, they wouldn’t touch an insect with a five foot pole. They couldn’t even imagine how Apex must feel, having never even heard of such an absurd aspect of dragon cuisine. Even  _ thinking  _ about eating a bug must have been too foreign a concept for him to comprehend. 

“Do you two want some?”

Apex’s head whipped towards the NightWing, golden eyes narrowing. Several minutes of silence passed before the prince decided that he was probably talking with the voices in his head that told him to stuff critters in his maw. He was just starting to relax when--

“No? More for me, then. Though, you should eat. Ever since you started following me, you haven’t been able to properly hunt. You know, a dragon’s health is the most important thing that they have. It really should be maintain--” Apex was on him in a second, front claws cutting off his air supply and back claws holding the dragon’s wings close to his sides. “Hello,” the NightWing wheezed. 

“How did you know we were following you?” Apex demanded, pressing his claws closer against the soft scales covering the dark dragon’s neck. He coughed, and Starfish had to drag Apex off before he accidentally strangled their only lead. The dragon came up for air in a great gasp, rubbing their neck where Apex’s talons had wrapped around it. 

“Well, they told me, of course!”

“Who told you?” Apex felt panic surge within him. Did the NightWings send this dragon out, specifically to send Apex and Starfish on a wild goose chase? How did they know that the kidnapper they had sent had left a scale behind? 

“The world's whispers.” He padded in a slow circle. “Don’t you hear them? They’re all around you. They gossip through the treetops and make quite a clamor in the valleys, where they know they will echo. Listen,” he prompted, suddenly stopping his rounds to tilt an ear towards the sky. 

Starfish glanced at Apex, waving a talon in a loop beside their head.  _ This dragon is nuts,  _ the gesture said. Apex nodded in agreement. At least he knew that the NightWings weren’t onto them. “Okay,” the prince began slowly, “I hear them.” He decided to play along for now, just to see where it got him. 

“Oh, that's concerning, because I was lying to you! Or, perhaps you were just trying to gain my favor by pretending to know what I was talking about? What a fun little strategy!” This dragon, despite having called out Apex’s bluff, didn’t seem angry in any way that he had been lied to. His tone held no trace of sarcasm, no hint of bitterness.  _ Who the heck is this weirdo,  _ Apex thought. 

“My name is Reaper! Pleased to make your acquaintance! I’m… I'm a NightWing,” he added, as if Apex couldn’t tell. Starfish shouldered past the prince, who was currently staring at Reaper with his jaw practically brushing against the floor. 

“I’m Starfish! Nice to meet you, Reaper!” They extended a green claw towards the NightWing, who stared at it for a minute, unsure. Then, he picked up a nearby rock and placed it in Starfish’s grip. Starfish stared at it for a moment, visibly going through fifteen stages of confusion before reaching the conclusion that they shouldn’t question it. “Uhm… thank you…” But Reaper wasn’t listening. He had already moved on to examine a twig. 

“Uhm,” Apex interjected, “Do you mind telling us what you’re doing out in the middle of nowhere?”

“Everywhere is somewhere, unless, of course, you’re nowhere! But everyone’s somewhere at some point in time, until the time at which they’re called back into nowhere!” The NightWing sat down heavily, lifting the twig up to his eyes to examine it closer. 

“Right… well, can you tell us why you’re here, then,” Starfish prompted. 

“Where else would I be? You SeaWings sure are silly creatures, asking such obvious questions.” 

“What are you currently doing?” Apex asked. This just kept getting weirder and weirder. 

“What are any of doing? In the endless cycle of war and peace, life and death, love and loss, what do any of us truly  _ do?  _ Sure, some dragons come along and make a ripple in the endless river of time, leaving their clawprint etched firmly into the surface of dragon’s minds, but--”

Starfish and Apex shared an aggrieved look. Regretting that he had even asked in the first place, Apex held up a talon to silence the NightWing. He trailed off slowly, but not because he could see that Apex was about to rip his tail off and feed it to him; No, he simply stopped speaking because he had lost interest in the topic of discussion, Now, his sights were set on the deep, jagged scars that ran across Apex’s neck. Reaper sat down with a heavy  _ whump _ , mimicking Apex’s pointed talon by lifting up his own and directing it towards the half-healed wound. 

“You should be dead,” he said, nonchalantly. As though the sentence was one that would normally come up in a casual conversation. 

“Yeah, well, I’m not,” Apex bit back, “but  _ you  _ will be if you don’t tell us what you’re--HEY!”

Ignoring the prince's threat, Reaper swiftly got up and stepped closer, much too close for Apex’s comfort. He was prodding at the wound now, and Apex felt sharp stabs of pain each time his talons poked the torn scales. “Intriguing… Do you feel like an animated corpse?” 

“Wha--no! Stop touching it!” Apex waved him away, all his bravado and threats giving way under the NightWing’s curiosity. “I feel fine, thank you very much. I’m still breathing, I still feel pain, I still have a will of my own, and my heart is beating! So, yes, I am still alive!”

“Well, someone certainly prevented your death. Only one dragon can do that...”

Suddenly, Starfish interjected, fidgeting uncomfortably. “Hey, let’s stay on track here, alright! We need to find out where Permafrost is!”

“Permafrost? Permafrost… Permafrost!! The little IceWing!!” Apex’s head snapped back towards Reaper, yellow eyes burning. 

“Do you know where he is?” The prince asked. 

“Of course? What kind of researcher would I be if I didn’t?” 

“Can you… take us to him?” Apex couldn’t believe it was that easy. It was never this easy. Permafrost was within their grasp, and all they had had to do was ask some little weirdo about his whereabouts. 

“Oh, sure! But first, I need help with something!” 

“With what?” Starfish pressed, leaning forward expectantly. 

“I’ll need an animus dragon.”

Of course. 

It was  _ never  _ that easy. 

“Where are we supposed to find an animus dragon?!” Apex complained. “Those are as rare as…” His voice died in his throat as he watched Starfish step forward, their eyes glimmering with a determined light. 

“I know one.” They said. 

“Oh, delightful,” Reaper cheered. “Take me to them at once!”

“You’re looking at them.” Starfish kept their head facing forward, so that they wouldn’t have to meet Apex’s eyes. They didn’t know what they would see there--bewilderment, fear, awe--because it no longer mattered. They had just wanted to be normal, but if they couldn’t have an ordinary life… well, they’d settle for helping their new companions with this power they had been cursed with. 


	23. Chapter Twenty-Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Permafrost is in a harrowing situation, being trapped in the NightWing's volcanic hideout and forced to rely on nothing but his own memory to pass the time as he waits for Apex to save the day. But will Apex make it in time to pull him from Queen Ebonyshadow's claws? And, if he does, who will save Permafrost from his own past?

_ When he laughed, it was quiet.  _

_ Like the snow drifting in flurries around them, dancing with their brethren, floating to the ground… he was quiet.  _

_ Some dragons would say that it was disturbing, seeing someone laugh but hearing no sound come out. But it wasn’t that there was no sound: The problem was that they only ever listened with their ears.  _

_ Had they been truly hearing him, they would have felt the warmth suffusing through their scales. The unexpected burst of heat racing down the ridge of their back, from the top of their horns to the tips of their tails. The silence replacing the space where sound should be, a silence that was so loud that it was a noise in and of itself.  _

_ Permafrost’s brother was mute. Permafrost never knew the true reason for this. Had he been born this way, or had something compelled him not to speak? Was he physically incapable of speech? But the little IceWing had learned not to question it long ago. Besides, his brother could still communicate. He just made himself heard in a different way. But, once you learned the language, Permafrost’s brother was positively full of words.  _

_ A twitch of the tail. A stray glance. Intertwined claws, stolen moments, nudges that were so natural they almost felt accidental. But Permafrost knew how to read these things. He had always known how to read his brother like a scroll.  _

_ So why…  _

_ Why couldn’t he see the thoughts swirling behind his brother’s empty eyes? _

_ Why had his tail gone limp? Why wasn’t his jaw moving? It hung open, blood dripping onto the snow, staining it red. Why wasn’t his breath hitching anymore? Why was he just laying there? Why wouldn’t he get up? Why? Why? Wh- _

_ Claws closed around Permafrost’s neck.  _

_ “Look what I found, Snowdrift!” _

_ Permafrost mewled, pathetically. He wiggled in his attacker’s claws, unable to escape their vice-like grip.  _

_ “Put it out of its misery, Bonecrusher. It’s impolite to play with your prey.” _

_ “But it’s so small! Do you think it’s a baby?” _

_ A face drifted into Permafrost’s vision, scrutinizing him. It was another IceWing, his scales a rich blue characteristic of the northern lands. A vine-like scar ran across his jaw, glinting in the dawn light and twisting when he tilted his head.  _

_ “Look at the horns. It’s at least one year old. Must be a runt. Which of these rebel scum was carrying a child around a battlefield?” The big IceWing nudged a few of the bodies scattered around the camp, both IceWing and NightWing alike. Permafrost felt rage surge in his chest when those talons scraped against his brother, who didn’t so much as twitch. He twisted out of his captor’s grip and swiftly pounced on the big IceWing’s back, teeth gnashing against the hard scales at the back of his neck.  _

_ He was easily thrown off, and landed in a snow drift a few feet away.  _

_ “Oh?” A NightWing swam into view, smaller than the IceWing from before. He looked young; Only a teenager. “It’s a fighter! I kinda want to keep it!” _

_ “It certainly has spunk.” The IceWing brushed the spot where he had been bitten, as if the remnants of Permafrost’s touch needed to be wiped away. As if he was nothing more than trash to this imposing dragon.  _

_ Suddenly, Permafrost felt a surge of fear in his chest. He didn’t yet know what frightened him about this IceWing: Not yet. Later, he would learn the true reason for his fear. He would discover how to turn that piercing terror into a weapon. But, for now, he was simply a scared child. “I’m not an it! I’m Permafrost,” he squeaked, trying to sound brave.  _

_ “I was beginning to think it couldn’t speak.” The IceWing, Snowdrift, regarded him with those cool blue eyes. His gaze scraped over Permafrost like ice, so strikingly different from his brother’s warm green eyes, flecked with gold. He wasn’t even acknowledging Permafrost: He was simply assessing a product, weighing the costs of maintaining such a burden and what could be gained by letting it continue its existence. In that gaze, Permafrost got the first taste of his own disposability.  _

_ “Stop it!” Permafrost shook snow from his lavender scales, baring his teeth, as he had often seen other dragons do when he or his brother had gotten too close to them. They may have been travelling with a group, but they were never a part of it. Not truly. That was why, when the children had been hidden away during the assault on the camp, no one had bothered to check if the little lavender dragonet was included among the bodies of the other squirming hatchlings.  _

_ “What are you going to do? Cry??” The NightWing laughed cruelly, wings shaking with the force of it. It was so… harsh. And loud. So loud. Too loud. Permafrost flinched, pressing his claws against his ears.  _

_ “Stop it! Stop laughing!!” But the laughing only got louder. It seemed to be inside his head now, echoing off of the caverns of his mind.  _

_ So loud.  _

_ Too loud.  _

_ Suddenly, it was silent. Everything was silent. But this wasn’t the easy silence that he had shared with his brother. This was staticky, forced, like cloth had been stuffed into his ears. Slowly, his senses began returning to him, and Permafrost was aware of a sharp pain in his head first. The second thing he noticed was that he was no longer standing, audaciously facing the indifferent dragons who had stolen his world from him. He was on the ground, something warm and wet flowing from behind his ear. When had he gotten on the ground? Why couldn’t he move? Then, his eyes landed on a rock laying nearby, one of the sharp edges stained with red. His vision began to blur.  _

_ Someone had thrown a rock at him. _

_ But… who… _

_ “I’ll take that off your claws, Snowdrift.” This voice was new. A deep, rich sort of voice. One that almost sounded saturated.  _

_ “Oh, are you going to take in another misfit? Orphans make the best servants.” Another new voice. This one was unmistakably feminine, the words smooth and polished. Completely different from the rasp of the IceWing soldiers, and unlike any commoner's voice Permafrost had ever heard. It had the unmistakable edge of royalty in it: prideful, pompous, and graceful as an arctic fox.  _

_ “My queen!” The NightWing dipped into a low, reverential bow. He was ignored, as though he were nothing more than an insect, buzzing around noisily.  _

_ Snowdrift begrudgingly dipped his head towards the elegant voice in respect. Well, at least, obligatory respect. It was clear he wasn’t sincere in the way his tail twitched, betraying his aggravation. Without addressing the “queen”--as the NightWing had named the silky voice--he, instead, directed his words towards the one who had said his name mere moments before.  _

_ “Tempest,” he greeted. “I didn’t expect to see you out here. What brings you to the battlefield?” His words had a hidden meaning, but Permafrost hadn’t had the knowledge to read into them at the time. They were simply words, edged with a sort of caution that spoke of a tension between two rival forces.  _

_ “Would you believe me if I told you that I was simply observing from afar?” But when Tempest spoke, her voice betrayed no emotion. Well, that wasn’t entirely true… there was a hint of amusement lying underneath a layer of chilly formality.  _

_ “No,” Snowdrift decided, after a pause. “You’re always involved, somehow.” _

_ “You know me so well.” A new dragon came into the picture. Permafrost felt enraptured by what he saw: A cream-colored dragon, just a shade away from being entirely white, with slanted eyes the color of obsidian. She moved like her feet barely touched the clumps of snow beneath her claws--and when Permafrost listened, he was shocked to find that the snow didn’t crunch under her step like it did with others. It was like she stepped in another plane of existence, far removed from the dragons stomping around about her. She made them all look clumsy in comparison; Perhaps that was why Snowdrift seemed so disgruntled by her appearance.  _

_ “Are you going to tell me what you’ve been up to?” _

_ “Are you going to order me to disclose that information?” It was clearly a challenge. After a moment, Snowdrift lowered his eyes in concession. Tempest seemed satisfied, and turned her inky stare on Permafrost. The little dragonet felt everything else melt into the background: All that mattered was her eyes on him. He scrambled to his feet, no longer feeling the pulsing ache in the back on his skull. “Well, hello there,” she purred.  _

_ “...” _

_ “Not much of a talker? That’s fine. It’s better for stealth.” She stepped closer, and Permafrost found himself unable to move. When she inspected him, her thoughtful assessment didn’t cause him to shiver as Snowdrift’s had. It didn’t fill him with warmth, either. He simply felt… nothing. Like she wasn’t even there, staring him down. Something itched under Permafrost’s scales, a feeling of wrongness that he couldn’t quite place. “Yes, we’ll take him.” She must have found what she had been looking for in him. Permafrost sensed a finality in those words, as if they had been a sentence to a long imprisonment.  _

_ “Pity. I was hoping to have him dipped in molten gold, and use him to adorn my throne room.” The NightWing queen’s voice floated towards Permafrost, and if he looked hard enough, he could just barely make out her smooth, dark scales outlined against the bloodstained snow in his peripherals.  _

_ “I’m sure he would make a lovely ornament. However, I have bigger plans for this one.” Tempest dipped into a crouch in front of Permafrost, forcing him to return all of his attention to her. “Let’s go, little one.” _

_ “G-Go…? I have to stay with my brother…” Permafrost’s voice was weak compared to all the other dragons--it held none of the splendor of the queen’s, no hint of resolute fortitude of Snowdrift’s, and was filled with fear where Tempest’s was completely devoid of emotion.  _

_ “Ahaha!” The NightWing from before, Bonecrusher, let out a thunderous laugh. “Your brother? Is that the one you were cowering next to when we found you? Breaking news, kid: he’s dead!” _

_ A roaring filled Permafrost’s ears. He had known, of course. Had known that his brother was gone. Had known that his vacant eyes were those of a dragon whose life had long since fled their body, moved on to whatever plane of existence awaited them after this one. But to hear it said… to come to the sick, startling realization that the only dragon remaining to care for him had left him here, alone… Permafrost felt the world tilt dangerously under his claws. He felt impulsivity swiftly take over his senses, tunneling his vision to exclude the past and the future--all that mattered was the present.  _

_ And, presently, he leapt at Tempest with a fury to rival even the most contentious SkyWing. His teeth, not yet blunted with use, easily sank into the soft scales of her chest. His claws scrambled uselessly in the snow, unsure of what to do now that he had latched on. Tempest’s words were lost to him in the haze of his ire, but he thought he heard her mention something about his instincts.  _

_ None of it mattered, in the end.  _

_ He was brushed aside as easily as if he were a stray bit of dirt, nothing but an inconvenience. He caught one last view of his brother--throat gashed from ear to ear, red and yawning like a mouth--before his head was slammed back into the hard-packed layer of frost covering the ground. He heard a pop, and like the last embers of a fire crackling into nothingness, his vision collapsed in on itself.  _

~

He woke, gasping. For a moment, he thought that he was back in IceWing territory, and panicked when his vision didn’t return as it had in the past.  _ In the past…  _ It took a moment for Permafrost to separate his thoughts into remembrance and occurrence, but once he had, he became uncomfortably aware of the stifling heat of the room. His mouth felt like cotton. The symptoms of his slow dehydration hit him in waves; the headache, the nausea, and the inability to muster the strength he needed to look for an escape route. Why was it so  _ hot?  _

_ Apex,  _ he thought, selfishly,  _ please come for me. I don’t know how much longer I can last... _


	24. Chapter Twenty-Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The stars are aligning and the pieces are colliding. A storm brews on the horizon, one that threatens tear down the makeshift peace built by the tribes of Pyrrhia...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! This series has been a whirlwind, but I'm going to start tying everything up! This chapter should be the last introduction of a major player, unless I change my mind for some reason. Thank you all for joining me for this crazy journey, and I look forward to sharing more chapters with you guys!

_ To what do we owe our kin? _

He waited for the dark. 

_ Our thoughts? _

They came just after dusk, as he knew they would. 

_ Our emotions? _

When they tried to cry for help, they found that blood replaced the words flowing through their throats. 

_ Our lives? _

And so it was done. More lives, snuffed in the name of familial fidelity. Anubis cleaned the blood and buried the bodies, sending silent gratitude towards their freed souls. There had been four of them; they hadn’t put up much of a fight. Perhaps they had sensed the inevitability of the situation, or maybe they could see the resignation in Anubis’ eyes and took comfort in knowing that their killer acknowledged the value of their existence in this moment. In turn, they had taken pity on him. 

It hadn’t been messy. Anubis was thankful. 

When he was done doing the proper rites, the ones he afforded to each individual life he claimed, he wrapped a strip of wool--dyed black--over his eyes and tied it behind his horns. There it would stay, until his blind justice was once more in need of sight. He liked to look each one of them in the eyes, so they could see his sorrow and make peace with their untimely end. 

Perhaps such things were pointless accommodations to criminals. Still, does a dragon become a scavenger when they steal something? Do they not still bleed, think, and feel? So long as they remained sentient, Anubis would not deny them the acknowledgement of a respectable death. 

He would cry for them, if he could. Those did not know how. He had asked, once, when one of his targets had begun to sob. 

“How does it feel?” He had whispered to them.

They hadn’t answered. He supposed they thought he was mocking them. He wasn’t. 

His step light over the shifting sands, Anubis left the tent and faded back into the landscape: The backdrop of beige on beige, nothing but the drab dragons who inhabited the land breaking the consistent pattern. There was no oasis here, and there wouldn’t be one for miles. His family had chosen a remote location, perhaps because of the scene his brother had caused last time. 

Even moving with the sand, it seemed as though Anubis stood out amidst the other market-goers. He supposed it was the cloth, so dark against his pale scales. Or perhaps it was the dark stripes along his back, jagged like scars and deep as ink. They had always been abnormal. His brother thought that, perhaps, Anubis was part NightWing. 

He doubted it, but anything’s possible when you’re an orphan. 

They were arguing again, when he pushed back the tent flap and slipped inside like a ghost. His steps made no sound as he moved across the room, but his sister didn’t rely on sound alone to locate her prey. 

“Anubis agrees with me! Don’t you, Anubis?” Her tone brokered no argument. He was fairly certain that if he didn’t agree with whatever point she had made, it would be a good idea to sleep with one eye open. Luckily, his brother spared him the choice. 

“Don’t drag him into this,” Pharaoh broke in. He was the eldest of them all, though the smallest by comparison. Anubis couldn’t see him through the blindfold, but he had memorized the rich, dark bronze of his scales. It was flecked with red in places, little scales tinged a vibrant hue around his eyes and the ridge of his back. He could have been mistaken for a MudWing, if not for his lithe figure and barbed tail. 

“Why not? He’s a part of this family, he should be involved in all decisions.” Anubis’ other brother, Hyena, broke in. The statement was not made with Anubis’ best interests in mind, he knew. The pale Sandwing, with his shockingly white eyes, had always known himself to be inferior and strove to make Anubis’ life harder at every turn. It wasn’t vanity that made Anubis think this; It was an objective fact. Still, Anubis’ words were stolen from him by his sister. 

“Anubis, don’t think that one should ask before they touch something that is not theirs?” Vera drew herself up with all her dignity and poise. Her overly-large wings nestled into the hollow of her back, her tail with it’s dark rings encircling it wrapped elegantly over her claws, and her tongue flicked out in agitation. All this and more, Anubis could tell from the way the sand shifted around her. That, and it was a stance he had often witnessed her adopt when the answer to a question she had posed was abundantly clear and she expected a specific answer.

“That is stealing,” Anubis confirmed. His voice was quiet, but it seemed to draw the others into a bated silence as they listened for his concession. 

“Yes! Thank you--”

“I did not say that I agreed with you. Is what we do not the same as stealing under the guise of judgement?” If they were waiting for more, Anubis did not give it. There were few subjects in life that were deserving of more than a few words--this was one of them. The others knew better than to interrupt as he settled onto the velvety cusion near the back of the room and began his meditation. 

_ What do they owe us? _

His eyes fluttered shut behind the blindfold. 

_ Their words? _

He took a deep breath and held it, letting the strength seep out of his muscles as the oxygen flooded from his system. 

_ Their time? _

When his mind began to dim and his lungs began to ache, Anubis welcomed the darkness with open arms. He greeted it, let it in, wallowed and sunk in its promises of eternity. 

_ What, then, do we owe to ourselves? _

His breath tumbled out of him in a whoosh of air, the darkness whispering to him as it turned its back.  _ Not yet,  _ it said.  _ Not yet.  _

~

“At least  _ someone  _ can do their job,” Holly muttered to herself as she resealed the NightWing queen’s letter. After about a week of waiting, word had come back that Queen Ebonyshadow had been successful in her attempts to capture the little rat that had wandered a bit too far from his burrow. From what Holly understood, the little wretch was blind now.  _ Serves him right,  _ she thought,  _ for being so useless.  _

The IceWing queen had much occupying her mind, from the impending war with the SkyWings to the disharmony in her own court. It was all building up like a headache behind her eyes, pounding against her skull each time she thought of the work that was ahead of her. It came as a small relief that Permafrost would, at last, be interrogated and silenced once and for all. The last thing she needed was him babbling to the SkyWing queen of all the IceWing’s defenses and assault patterns, especially now of all times. 

And then there was the matter of her own descendancy… 

She knew she’d have to choose a viable candidate to give her an heir at some point. There was just one problem: All dragons she had met up until this point had been blundering idiots. Heaving herself onto her throne, claws scrabbling against the ice, she groaned as she sat down. 

_ I’m getting old… _

Before she could go through the list of suitors for the billionth time, she was--thankfully--interrupted by a messenger poking their head into the vast chamber. She gestured for the scroll in their claws somewhat impatiently, and the messenger scurried to obey. No words were exchanged, as no words were necessary. The sender needn’t be declared, as Queen Holly could read just as well as the next dragon. 

She unrolled the scroll and stared at it for a moment, the gears in her head turning. 

_ A royal wedding… _

_ A SkyWing wedding… _

_ The union of Apex and the SeaWing princess… _

A sharp smile cut across her features, tail flicking in delight, and she called out to the messenger just before they disappeared through the semi-transparent doors. “Wait. Send a message in reply to this SkyWing princess. Tell her that I would be honored to attend. She wishes to end the hostility between our families, and I think that’s a  _ wonderful  _ idea. Oh, and send two more messages, one to Queen EbonyShadow and another to Tempest. Tell the NightWing queen that I will personally come to retrieve Permafrost. And to Tempest, wherever she may be, tell her that I am in need of her services once again. Tell her to finish the job that Permafrost started.” 

The messenger hesitated, but at the behest of a silent glare in their direction, they scurried away to do the queen’s bidding. 

“They must not have contact with him, if they think he plans to return for this wedding of theirs. They wish to fool me, do they? I’m willing to bet that this wedding is a ruse, a front to lure me in.” She slipped off of her throne, shrugging away her weariness like it was little more than a coat of fur draped over her shoulders. “If it is me they want, then it is me they shall have. The groom, however…” Her claws scraped across the ice as she paced the length of her throne room. “He’ll be too busy dealing with a sudden case of cold feet!” 


	25. Chapter Twenty-Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's all fun and games until someone has to put their lives on the line for the greater good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The comments on this fic have been absolutely phenomenal, they're what keep me striving to improve and keep posting! I'm sorry that don't really reply to comments, but in all honesty... I think I'm just shy and I'm too busy gushing over the wonderful things you guys say to type out a response, haha! Anyway, thank you all so much for the support and I really appreciate everything you point out, be it praise or constructive criticism, about the fic!

“So, let me get something straight. You want to _dissect_ Starfish?”

“Well,” Reaper responded, twirling his talons in the air with a dismissive flourish, “yes, but no. I just want a sample.” 

“Oh, just a sample! You hear that, Starfish? It’s fine, he just wants a piece of your heart! I’m sure you’ll be fine!” Apex’s voice dripped with scorn and sarcasm. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Even more unbelievably, Starfish didn’t seem in the least bit fazed by this development. 

“And you’ll tell us where Permafrost is, and how to get there?” For Starfish, a small part of themselves was the least they could give to find the friend they had failed by not paying enough attention. This feeling was amplified by the thought of what the NightWing queen might be doing to him, and how he was probably hopelessly alone in a strange place. 

“What?” Apex’s fiery eyes flicked back and forth between Starfish and Reaper, unsure of which one to direct his incredulity at. “You can’t be serious, Starfish. You could literally die in the process!”

“If I die… so be it. Permafrost’s life is worth ten of mine.” Starfish tried to hide the quiver in their voice, to put forth a mask of bravery that they didn’t feel, but a hint of uncertainty crept into their words. Immediately, they hated themselves for it. It was their fault he was gone, so it was their responsibility to get him back, no matter the cost. Besides, even if they were scared of death… they were more fearful for their missing companion. 

“Wha-but-no! That's not true at all, and I won’t allow it! This is madness, Starfish,” Apex reasoned. Reaper watched the interaction from afar, amused. “Listen to me. You’re of no help to me or Permafrost dead. And how do you think he’ll feel, knowing that he was the reason you were unable to achieve your dream?”

“My dream was finding a place where I belonged, Apex. I’ve found that. Even after finding out what I am, you’ve stayed by my side. You haven’t looked at me differently, or shrunk away from my touch like I was diseased. That’s, like… the only thing I’ve ever wanted. Besides,” they waved a claw in the air, as if to dispel the cloud of Apex’s doubt, “it’s not guaranteed that I won’t pull through. It’s not like he’s taking my whole heart, or anything. I mean, surely I can do without a little piece.”

“Actually, your heart is probably the most vital organ in your body,” Reaper cheerfully cut in from across the overhang. “So cutting out a part of it would likely cease the functionality of every other organ due to blood loss! You have, by my calculations, a three percent chance of survival!” 

Apex and Starfish stared at him for a moment. Then, Apex said:

“Absolutely not.”

At the same time as Starfish said: 

“That’s better than I was expecting.”

The two dragons blankly regarded each other, green eyes searching gold. Then, unexpectedly, they both burst out laughing. The differences between them had never been so prominent, and the two of them realized for the first time that they were like a perfect disharmony. A cacophony of random noise that was so wrong, it almost sounded like a melody, a chaotic verse. When they had both recovered, they were smiling despite the circumstances. A mutual understanding passed between them. 

_I have to do this._

_I know._

“If you die, I’m going to kill you myself, blubber-head.”

“You can certainly try, barnacle-butt.” Starfish stuck out their tongue and looked towards Reaper, whose claws were twitching eagerly, as though greedy to get his claws on his prize. 

“You both have quite the fascinating relationship,” he proclaimed from his spot in the distance. “I’d love to study it, if the SeaWing pulls through.”

“The SeaWing’s name,” Apex hissed, “is Starfish. And you will do everything in your power to save them, or you’ll be joining them in the afterlife.” 

“I’d love to go back there one day, actually. It’s quite a lovely place.” Apex stared at the NightWing blankly, as if trying to process the absurdity he had just spouted. “I’m just kidding,” Reaper assured.

“Oh, okay. I thought you meant that you had died bef--”

“It’s a _dreadful_ place,” Reaper finished. 

“Guys,” Starfish cut in, “let’s not get caught up in who has and has not died, alright? We’ve got things to do and places to be, places that only _Reaper_ can show you. So, Apex, if you kill him, please promise me that you’ll only do it _after_ you find Permafrost.” They were only half-kidding. 

“Yeah, sure,” Apex said, distantly. “Hey, Starfish, speaking of death…” He claw floated up to the scars criss-crossing his neck, the only visible mark that his imprisonment had left on him. His eyes asked a silent question, one in which Starfish answered with a nod. They figured that they owed him that, at least. He responded by lowering his gaze, as if he had known all along and had been denying it. “We both owe you our lives, then.”

“The things I do are my choice, Apex. I’m not doing you any favors that I expect reparation for. I’m doing all that I can for the only dragons who’ve treated me as nothing more or less than I am. Who’ve embraced me as Starfish. Not an animus, not a pet; as Starfish.” 

“Don’t forget Bullfrog.” The SkyWing prince gently placed a talon over their chest, where their heart was. “Think about how sad he would be if he never saw you again.” 

Starfish’s eyes clouded with emotion, and they clasped Apex’s talons between their claws. “You’re right,” they concluded. “I guess I have no choice but to beat all the odds, then. Apex… thank you for not letting me give up.”

“All in a day’s work.” He bumped his horns against theirs affectionately, and they smiled in response. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, they let go for perhaps the last time. Apex watched them disappear into the cave with Reaper, giving the prince one last smile before they were gone. 

~

Queen Selkie was beginning to find her daughter’s tardiness to be quite vexing. In the past, she had chalked it up to the disregard of time that seemed to be prevalent among all young dragonets, an inability to distinguish between one moment and the next that could only result from the ignorant thought that one had unlimited seconds to spare. Now, as Princess Clam had bloomed into adulthood, her unwillingness to appear in court could not be excused as the foolish wiles of one unaware of her own position in life. 

She sighed, fighting to maintain her composure. What Queen Selkie _really_ wanted to do was leave the room and drag her daughter out of her chambers by force, but such an action was not befitting of a queen. Nor would it do any good for her court to watch as she hauled their future queen into the throne room by her tail, most likely wailing her distress and displeasure at the forced intrusion upon her hibernation. 

Queen Selkie was beginning to think she had raised some sort of unpleasant fur-beast, what with how frequently her daughter took to sleeping through entire afternoons. It was as if Clam was nocturnal, sneaking around at night and face planting into her pillows by day.

Finally, thankfully, her daughter entered the room and bounded up the stairs to join her mother at the dais. Not the most gracious entrance, but Queen Selkie knew that it was the best she could expect from someone who was most likely sleepwalking. Without giving her daughter a chance to speak--not like _last time_ , when Clam had announced that she was leaving if the court had no interesting news to report--she began the meeting in a carefully controlled monotone.

“It seems that everyone has arrived. Then, let’s begin. I’m sure you all know the topic of the discussion that we shall be commencing, yes?” She waited for the grave nods of her retinue before continuing. “Good. I’ll start us off with the escort, then. Have the dragons who will be delivering my daughter to the SkyWing palace been selected?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Star, the Head Commander of the SeaWing troops, growled in his gravelly voice. “Only the best for Princess Clam, as dictated by Her Highness.”

“Good.” Queen Selkie didn’t dare look back at her daughter. She could feel the murderous gaze burning the back of her neck; she needn’t see it to know Clam’s fury. “Have the gifts been packed?”

“All but the pearls,” Cobalt, the head of the Treasury, confirmed. Her voice was playful, twinkling, as if she was constantly on the verge of laughter. Hearing it tended to put Queen Selkie in a good mood, since her joy was as contagious as it was pleasant to listen to. 

“Excellent,” the queen sighed in contentment. All was going according to plan. All… except…

“Uhm, hello? Excuse me?” Clam stepped forward, claw raised in dissent. “Is anyone going to ask me if I’m prepared to surrender my freedom to some seaweed-brained prince in a distant kingdom, hundreds of miles from the shore? No? Because that seems like a pretty important piece of information to obtain before you ship me off to the middle of nowhere!”

“Ahem,” Queen Selkie cut in, feeling the beginnings of a headache throb behind her eyes. “We’ve talked about this, beloved. This is important for our people. Besides, you can always visit the ocean if you wish, and perhaps move a tad closer to it after Princess Condor had ascended to the throne. Now, if you’ll let us proceed--”

“No, I won’t let you proceed!” Whatever foolish exclamation Princess Clam was working on, it died in her throat when she saw the look in her mother’s eyes. With a gulp of trepidation, she lowered her head and stepped back to let her mother finish talking to her advisors. There were very few things in Pyrrhia that frightened Clam; her mother was one of those things, when she was no longer in the mood to put up with her daughter’s callousness.

The rest of the meeting passed by in a blur. They discussed visitation after the union, briefed Clam on her duties as the life-partner of SkyWing royalty, and drew up a list of customs she was expected to follow on the wedding night in accordance with SkyWing tradition. When it was all over and the SeaWing court had filed out of the room, Princess Clam found that she wished it had dragged on for just a bit longer. Yes, she hated these types of things… but she hated being scolded by her mother even more. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Queen Selkie’s mouth open and heard the ragged intake of breath as she prepared to launch into yet another didactic speech. 

But what Clam had expected, she didn’t receive. 

“Dear,” Queen Selkie said gently, the word dripping like honey off her tongue. “You know I love you.” 

Clam hesitated. Was this a trap? Was her mother trying to make her feel guilty? “Yes,” she replied, carefully. “As do I… but--”

“No buts,” her mother interrupted. “I’m not going to tell you to be grateful for being gift-wrapped and tossed into a pit of vipers. You deserve better than this.”

If Clam was waiting for the catch, the contradiction, it never came. Her mother simply looked… weary. And sad. Clam, in spite of her stubbornness, felt a wave of pity wash over her for her mother. As difficult as it was to lose your only daughter to a foreign ally out of necessity, Clam knew that she wasn’t making it any easier by being obstinate. 

“I’m sorry, mother,” she soothed. “I will visit. And, who knows… maybe I’ll actually like this one.” 

Queen Selkie cracked a mischievous smile, wholly undignified for royalty. “Twenty-three, Clam. You have turned down twenty-three suitors, all for miniscule details such as a discolored spot on their scale or a condescending attitude. What would make this one any different?”

“Well…” Princess Clam searched her mind for a silver lining. “I suppose I won’t know until I meet him. He’s a SkyWing, for one. They say he’s the color of polished gold, and that he would gladly sacrifice his life for his honor. They say he’s the perfect prince. Loyal, regal, and responsible. They also say he disobeyed his mother to save a prisoner.”

“Perhaps this one _will_ be different. You both have something in common.”

“We do?” Princess Clam wrinkled her snout as her mother tapped it with an extended talon, like she used to when Clam was just a dragonet. 

“You both _love_ giving your poor mothers conniption fits. Now, I believe you have some packing to do. Don’t let me catch you sleeping fifteen minutes before you’re to depart.” 

“Ay, ay, captain.” Princess Clam saluted her mother and left the throne room, her step a tad lighter than it had been when she entered. _This won’t be so bad,_ she tried to convince herself. _And if I really don’t like him, I’ll just have to become a widow at a very young age._


	26. Chapter Twenty-Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Queen Holly arrives to fetch Permafrost from his torturous captivity, political ties will be tested and new eras will be begin to blossom from the ashes of betrayal. Who will survive this deadly game, and is survival the same as victory?

It appeared the rumors were true. 

The NightWings really  _ did  _ reside within a volcanic system, stifling hot and covered in a thick layer of ashy soot. Queen Holly shook her claws to get the pebbles that had lodged between her toes out, sending them skittering across the rock. 

“This place is vile,” she muttered to herself. Holly made a mental note to destroy the entryway to this horrid place on her way out, so no one had to suffer the uncomfortable atmosphere and black flakes that drifted through the air in an obscene imitation of snow. One landed on her snout, and angrily wiped it away with a talon. 

“Flake,” she called out to one of her many advisors, who came slithering up beside her like the lowly serpent he was. 

“Yes, Your Highness?”

She cut a glance towards him, weighing how well he would perform in a fight, should the NightWing queen decide that she wished to keep her little IceWing pet.  _ I suppose that doesn’t matter,  _ she thought.  _ If we’re faster than him, there’s a chance Ebonyshadow will be too enthralled with ripping him to pieces to chase after us. And she isn’t smart enough to be plotting an ambush.  _ “Is our escort being truthful when they say that they mean us no harm, do you think?”

Queen Ebonyshadow, everthe helpful hostess, had sent a handful of her goons to show them to the throne room, as if Queen Holly couldn’t spot the massive structure from a mile away. It was carved into the wall, grand steps leading towards an even grander room. Little pockets in the rock’s surface gave Holly little peeks of what she could expect inside, including suspended lights that seemed to float around of their own accord and a high-backed throne.  _ An empty throne,  _ she observed. 

“Is anyone being truthful when they say that they mean no harm, Your Majesty? I think the very nature of that sentence alone indicates that one or more parties feels threatened by the presence of another. There’s a reason for that apprehension.” Suspicion and prudence were Flake’s specialty.  _ This is the only reason he continues to be of use to me,  _ Holly reminded herself. 

“Keep an eye on the one in the back. She looks like trouble.” Queen Holly had spotted a particular dragon that rubbed her the wrong way, and she couldn’t quite put her talon on _ why _ . It could have been the way the slight NightWing was boring holes into the back of the queen’s neck with her sharp, flint-colored eyes. Or, perhaps it was the air of ominousness that seemed to hang around her like a stormcloud, threatening rain at any moment. 

If Flake was surprised by her assessment of such a seemingly-insignificant dragon, he knew better than to express his doubt. He simply nodded and faded into her peripherals, rejoining the retenue she had brought with her.  _ He might make a viable candidate for…  _ Holly almost burst out laughing before she could even complete the thought. It was a fun idea, to be sure, to make a partner out of such a simpering worm. He wouldn’t talk back, if nothing else could be said for that rat of an advisor. It also may be amusing to toy with his emotions, to see how far he would be willing to go for the sake of his liege-turned-lover, but… Holly wasn’t ready for the scripted lines and empty rituals he would shove down her throat. 

Finally, they arrived at the bottom of the staircase, wherein the question of who would be allowed to go came in. Holly knew that Ebonyshadow didn’t let just  _ anyone  _ into her throne room. She was highly selective of the dragons that dirtied her hall; they must make up for it through their own beauty, or by virtue of their reputation. She took careful note of how the NightWing escort peeled away from the visitors, all but one: the little devil in the back.  _ It appears I was right. There is something different about that one. _

The walk up was a dull one, with nothing but the sounds of scales scraping against stone to follow their party up to the throne room. There was no energy here, as if all of it was sucked out of the NightWings and used to fuel the hellscape they called home. Queen Holly tried her best to look dignified under the pool of sweat that was collecting on her brow, and hoped that it looked like little more than a glisten in the dim light. 

The throne room was, thankfully, a bit cooler than the rest of their forsaken habitat. Queen Ebonyshadow had even gone through the trouble of fetching Permafrost and tying him up in a neat little package, laying him down next to the throne like an exotic piece of furniture. He looked like little more than a slug, with his wings and legs tucked close to his body.  _ Fitting,  _ she mused. 

“Where is Queen Ebonyshadow?” Holly wondered aloud, slightly annoyed by the queen’s tardiness to such an important matter. She knew, of course, that Ebonyshadow had never been too fond of following proper customs… or, perhaps she was too dimwitted to understand the social cues surrounding this particular occasion.  _ One day, I shall have to show her how to kneel.  _ That would wait, however. Today, more important matters took precedence over manners. 

“Welcome!” The NightWing queen’s voice boomed across the hall, making Holly flinch. Queen Ebonyshadow entered the hall from a doorway behind the throne, adjusting a few pieces of jewelry that had been displaced. “I’m so glad you came, I’ve been anticipating this visit for weeks! You don’t know how happy this makes me--oh, you know, we should have a feast!”

“Ah…” Queen Holly resisted the instinctual denial that rose in her throat. “That would certainly be…” She searched for words, trying to ignore the expectant eyes of Ebonyshadow and the little NightWing’s shrewd gaze leveled on the back of her head. “An eventful occasion,” she finished. 

“Yes, indeed, but I know better than to subject you to such an ‘eventful occasion’” Ebonyshadow leapt gracefully onto her throne, tucking her wings behind her back in one fluid motion. Queen Holly envied her youth, and the ease of motion that came with it. “There are only two reasons you would come here, and one of them is that little cutie-pie squirming beside my throne.”

“Yes.” Queen Holly thanked the stars that Ebonyshadow didn’t wish to waste time dancing around the subject, but she couldn’t help but wonder what else the other queen thought she would make a special trip for. It wouldn’t do to waste time questioning everything Ebonyshadow said, though; she was, after all, not the brightest fire in the hearth. “Have you managed to get anything out of him?”

“He’s surprisingly resilient!” Ebonyshadow’s claws clacked against her obsidian seat. “We questioned him for hours, subjected him to a few days in a cave beneath the lava pools, and even plucked scales from him until he was screaming!”

“Yes, he’s quite a stubborn vermin. He was trained to die before divulging secrets, so it’s no surprise he was able to resist your... best... efforts. However, I think I know someone who could undo all of those mental blocks, if you’ll just hand him over to--”

“Here’s the thing,” Ebonyshadow cut her off, twirling the tip of her tail around with her talon. “I  _ like  _ him. He’s so sparkly, and you know how much I like sparkly things! Plus… his screams are just… so melodic. Like music to my ears. He suffers so beautifully,” she sighed, wistfully. 

Queen Holly was beginning to get the feeling that she had made a mistake in coming here.  _ Does she actually presume to humiliate me? _ Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a handful of NightWings blocking the entryway of the throne room.  _ Fine, then,  _ she thought, training her eyes on the door behind Ebonyshadow’s throne. “Well, that may be a problem. As you and I both know, I came here specifically to fetch him from you. If you’d like, I can send you his corpse when we’re done with him so that you may peel off the rest of his scales and make a crown out of them.”

Permafrost growled against the muzzle clamping his mouth shut, and Ebonyshadow lazily flicked his snout with her tail. “Oh, hush,” she soothed. “I have no intention of giving you to the big, bad Ice Queen. Don’t you worry your pretty little lavender head.”

Queen Holly weighed her options. She was instantly put at a disadvantage when it came to terrain and climate, as she wasn’t sure how much Frostbreath she would be able to summon in the intense heat. She had also not been particularly prepared for a fight--even though she had briefly considered it--so she hadn’t worn any sort of protection that would prevent mortal injuries. “I hope you aren’t planning on sending me home empty-clawed.” 

“Oh, of course not!” Ebonyshadow chuckled to herself, as if the mere suggestion were ridiculous to her. She leaned forward in her throne, dark eyes settling at a point just above Queen Holly’s head. “I’m not planning on sending you home  _ at all.” _

Before she could get a word in edgewise, a whole host of NightWings fell on the gathered party, slamming into her entourage like a tidal wave of darkness. Distinctly, Queen Holly heard the twinkling sound of Ebonyshadow’s laughter above the clamor and confusion of the assault, but she had no time to dwell on the other royal’s betrayal. Now, she had to focus on staying alive. 

She carrened to her right and found herself face-to-face with a burly NightWing that appeared to be charging her head-on. She braced herself for impact and sucked in a deep breath of stifling air, feeling the cold building in her chest and creeping up her throat. Only when he was inches from her did she unleash it, directly into his gaping maw, freezing him from the inside out. He fell like a ton of bricks, but Holly didn’t have time to celebrate before yet another NightWing had descended on her. 

Meanwhile, Queen Ebonyshadow watched the brawl like it was little more than a game. Her forked tongue flicked out from between her teeth in delight whenever a dragon went down, regardless of tribe. She knew she would win; she had already been told of the outcome beforehand. So, all of this was merely spectacle to her. 

  
“Your Highness.” Her little messenger had snuck to her side, where she belonged. Ebonyshadow didn’t spare her a glance, but acknowledged her presence with a nod. 

“Little gem,” She purred. “What information did you manage to snag from the frozen vault of Holly’s mind-palace?”

Fatechanger felt a thrill go through her at being able to help the one dragon she adored the most in all of Pyrrhia. Ever since birth, she had been called a freak and outcast because of her abilities. And her queen… her gracious, beautiful queen… had  _ celebrated  _ them. “She has no descendants, my queen, so that shouldn’t be a problem in the assumption of power.”

“Is that all?” Queen Ebonyshadow glanced at Fatechanger, and the little messenger could feel her interest slipping. She searched the crags of her mind, as well as those of Queen Holly.

“She… was invited to a wedding. A royal wedding. A SkyWing wedding. I apologize, but that’s… all I can see.” 

Queen Ebonyshadow seemed more than satisfied. As she watched the last dregs of resistance die out from the safety of her throne, she couldn’t help but be reminded of one particular day--years ago--when she had first taken the crown as the ruler of the NightWings. She had assisted Queen Holly in the decimation of the joint faction that threatened the icy throne with rebellion. Slowly and deliberately, she hopped off the throne and stepped off of the dias to stand in front of Queen Holly. Holly, who was bruised, bloodied, and pinned to the floor. 

“Oh, how the mighty fall,” she purred, tracing her talon down Holly’s jawline. Queen Holly tried to snap back, but the NightWing holding her in place just slammed her muzzle to the ground. “Yes, yes, I know what you’re thinking. ‘I’ve been betrayed!’” She gasped dramatically and flung her claws towards the stalactites hanging from the ceiling like icicles. 

“Actually,” Fatechanger broke in, sidling up to her queen’s side. “She’s thinking about how much she wants to kill you. She has quite a few… creative… methods. Shall we try one of them out on her?”

Queen Holly’s eyes snapped towards the lean, child-like NightWing. She had known that something was off about her… but to think that she had the rare ability that had long since faded from the NightWing bloodline… 

“Oh, she can read minds, yes,” Ebonyshadow confirmed, as if she was also capable of seeing Holly’s thoughts. “I forgot to mention that bit. I  _ also  _ forgot to mention that I quite like your crown.” The queen’s dark claws skimmed over Holly’s crown, the blueish silver catching in the light and reflecting onto the cave walls. 

“She’s thought about this, my queen. An ambush to remove her from the picture,” Fatechanger explained, then bristled. “She’s underestimated you.” 

_ No thought is safe.  _ Holly tried to close off her mind. 

“Oh? Just like little Permafrost. You’re all so prickly, like the spikes on your head!” For emphasis, Ebonyshadow poked one of the sharp spines that grew along the ridge of Holly’s spine. Holly growled at the touch; Ebonyshadow just laughed. 

“She’s thinking about how the IceWing’s will never accept you as their leader.” Fatechanger’s mouth quirked up in a grin. “I don’t think she’s realized yet… that you’re much more cunning than she believes you to be.”

“I have no intention of forcing your beloved subjects to accept me as their queen,” Ebonyshadow stated. “You’ve already provided me with everything I need to create a puppet, however. A dragon who will follow my orders without question, who will be beholden to me… after all, they say the strongest bond in the world is that of a mother and her child?”

Queen Holly cast a panicked look on Permafrost, who had gone completely rigid.  _ Oh, great dragons of Pyrrhia, what have I done?  _ This was her last thought, Fatechanger noted, before the guard pressed her head closer to the ground. There was a crack, and then… silence. 

  
_ Long live the queen,  _ Fatechanger thought, gleefully. 


	27. Chapter Twenty-Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the wake of Starfish's decision, will Apex manage to piece himself together enough to save his lost love? And even if he does... Apex starts to wonder if their relationship was doomed from the start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a bit longer than usual! I rushed through this chapter, then went back and reread it, and quite frankly... it was garbage. So I deleted it, took a deep breath, and started again! I'm still not entirely satisfied with it, but it's certainly better than it was before. Happy reading!

Apex was a nervous wreck. 

He paced back and forth, claws clacking against the stone as if they were just as impatient as he was. Light and sound danced behind his eyes, giving him a pulsing headache that began in his temples and seemed to spread all the way down his spine. 

_I have to do this._

_I know._

But he _didn’t_ know. Why had he let Starfish get roped into this? Why did he constantly and consistently fail to keep Permafrost safe? Why was he such a failure, as a prince, as a brother, as a--

A what? Lover? He had never confessed his feelings, might never get a _chance_ to confess his feelings. What if he showed up at the NightWing palace, and Permafrost was long gone? What if this was all some elaborate ruse, meant to distract him for long enough to keep him from discovering where he was being held? 

The flurry of questions blurred and ran together in his mind, their jagged edges snagging on his conscience until he wanted to bang his head against a rock to silence them.

_How could I have chosen him over them? Is their life worth less, because I don’t love them the same? Am I selfish for letting this happen?_

Over and over the cycle went, doubling back and filling Apex’s throat with regret. Apologies lay on the tip of his tongue, apologies to dragons that he might never see again. 

And it was all his fault. 

A few months ago, it would have been so simple. It was around dawn, with the sun peeking just above the horizon and turning the sky a pale shade of pink. Around this time, Apex would have been drilling the soldiers right about now. Condor would have woken up to the sound of him chastising one of them for a slip-up, and forced him to take a break for breakfast. Life would be repetitive, easy. A routine existed, and all he had to do was fall into it and follow it for the rest of his life. 

Instead, he had chosen to interrupt the execution. 

And now, here he was, head clutched between his claws as he desperately scrambled for an answer to the impossible situation he had gotten himself into. Was there even an answer to be found amid the crumbling rock and twisting shadows within the ravine they were hiding out in? Was there a way to solve a moral dilemma in which, no matter what you chose, you were wrong? 

_They wanted to do this,_ he rationalized. 

_And you let them,_ he accused. 

_We have to get him back. I have to see him again. This can’t be the end of us,_ he insisted. 

_Is your love story all you care about?_ He scorned. 

_Stop,_ he pleaded. Stop what, he didn’t know. Stop thinking? Stop over-analyzing? Was there an amount of analyzing that this situation required? No, there was no logical solution to an emotional struggle. Apex was in turmoil: no remedy existed for the ache in his heart, and there was no shoulder to lean on. 

_They’re on death row,_ he reminded himself. _Both of them. And it’s your fault. Some small part of you is relieved that Starfish is doing this, because you’re glad you don’t have to sacrifice any of yourself for your selfish romance._

_No!_ He groaned out in pain, curling his talons into a tight fist that he slammed into the ground. He heard something crack. The rock, his bones, he couldn't tell. He felt as though he were drifting out of his body, watching himself fall apart, helpless. The pain was distant, dim, a mere echo of what he knew he must feel. 

_How much are you willing to sacrifice for Permafrost? You barely know him!_

_But…_

His blindingly bright smile floated in front of Apex’s eyes. He reached out, but it faded before he could grasp onto it. Still, it served to ground him. That smile… his laugh… his cleverness, his quirks, his failures and successes… Apex wanted to share all those moments with Permafrost. 

_That is why I’m doing this. Not because I know who he is. Because I’ve seen glimpses, and I want to know_ more. _I want to hear his voice in the morning, groggy from sleep, greeting me. I want to walk through the palace halls with him by my side, quibbling and correcting me at every pace. I want to teach him how to fly again--_ really _fly. And I want to see that poorly concealed grin when he finally does, half-hidden behind a mask of solemnity. That’s all love is, really. You don’t fall in love because you know everything about someone. You fall in love to figure it out throughout a lifelong journey of triumphs, hardships, and unity through all._

“Uhm.”

Reaper’s voice startled Apex out of his own head, for which he was grateful. Getting absorbed in self-loathing would do nothing, not now, not when everything had already been done. At the moment, all Apex could hope to do was keep it together for long enough to find Permafrost and hightail it back to the SkyWing palace. Hopefully, with Starfish in tow. Which he assumed was the reason that Reaper had left the cave, after disappearing into its darkened depths for about three hours of nonstop work. 

“Well?” Apex tuned his attention on the NightWing, forcing all other thoughts out of his head. “Are they alright?”

“Define… alright,” Reaper choked out. 

“If you--”

“The SeaWing is alive,” Reaper added hurriedly. “Don’t worry about that. But they will need medical attention, and… I’m not a doctor, so…” 

“You just performed a dissection, and you don’t know basic medical procedures?” Apex began, incredulous. 

“I know how to take things apart, not put them back together,” Reaper defended. “It’s much easier. If you know any dragons with medicinal knowledge, I’ll be happy to transport the SeaWing to--”

“The SeaWing,” Apex bit out, “has a name. It’s Starfish. And what makes you think I’d trust you to take my friend _anywhere_ without me?”

“You’re welcome to come,” Reaper cheerfully explained, “but it seems to me that you have more important things to attend to. Didn’t you mention that there was a dragon you needed to rescue. Pear… Pertinent… Polar bear….” 

Apex shook his head. Was this NightWing crazy, forgetful, or just plain odd? “Permafrost,” he corrected. “And, yes, I do need to find him. _You_ were supposed to show us the way, after you played surgeon.”

“Yes, yes, the IceWing. I remember, I was just making sure that you remembered! You see, some dragons fade from our memories the moment they leave our lives, and our perception of them tends to be rather distorted. The moments we shared with them can change in our cognition--”

“Reaper.” 

“--actually quite fascinating to study the relationship between a figment of our imagination and the reality with which it was formed around, and it usually has to do with a chemical process in the right lobe of--”

“Reaper!”

“--how we can perceive and remember the things that our mind deems as impertinent information, the way it’s stored and transferred to various parts of the brain, and how it can influence the production of hormones at specific periods of--”

“REAPER!”

“--which leads me to the fact that I’m not actually allowed back in NightWing territory! It’s funny how I didn’t remember up until this point, when you brought up the fact that I’d have to enter NightWing territory with you, but that’s why I’m proposing… this…” Reaper trailed off at the murderous look in Apex’s eyes. 

“What,” the prince hissed, “are you talking about?”

Reaper poked at the ground, as if discreetly asking it for help. “Uhm… funny story! It was actually a bit unjust, the way they just tossed me out of my only home. You see, I didn’t actually do anything that bad.” 

Apex was pretty sure his jaw was brushing up against the ground. He snapped it shut and marched forward, forcing Reaper back until his tail touched the rock wall of the ravine. “Can you _at least_ tell me where I should be looking for this mysterious hideout that no dragon except the NightWings themselves knows the location of?”

“Well, actually, I think the IceWings have knowledge of--”

“REAPER!”

“Okay!” He whined. “No need to yell, I was getting to that bit! It’s an island near the northern side of Pyrrhia, but there’s also… erm… an enchanted tunnel connecting it to the rainforest,” he said, somewhat reluctantly. 

Apex couldn’t help the breath of relief that left his chest in a _woosh._ “Alright. I’ll take Starfish to the MudWings, and then I’ll head towards the rainforest.”

“The mud flats? That’s pretty far from the rainforest,” Reaper pointed out. “If you would just--”

“I’m not letting you--”

“Guys!” A voice broke into their conversation, followed by a very tired Starfish, who came hobbling from the cave on unsteady legs. A scar ran from the top of their right shoulder to their left shoulder, still crusted with blood. Apex felt a twinge of annoyance at the fact that Reaper hadn’t bothered to clean Starfish up after it was all said and done, but that was outweighed by the fact that they were up when they _should_ be laying down. “I can take myself.”

“You can take yourself to bed,” Apex protested. “But, beyond that, you aren’t going anywhere by yourself. You can hardly walk!”

“I’ll be okay, I promise--”

“No!” Apex rounded on Starfish, holding their sea-green gaze with his own ferocious glare. “When will it be enough, Starfish?! When will you stop sacrificing for us?”

“Don’t you want him back?!” They shouted, desperation making their throat raw. 

“OF COURSE I DO!” Starfish flinched at the anger in Apex’s voice. He lowered it to a low murmur, shaking with barely-contained emotion. “You think I don’t? I want him back more than anything in this world. I want him _safe._ But that doesn’t mean that I have to stand here and watch you tear yourself apart for him! I should be the one doing that! This is my fault, he’s _my_ responsibility, and _I_ should be the one who puts myself in danger for his sake! Not you!”

Starfish was quiet for a moment, thinking. Then, they proceeded to set a gentle claw on the prince’s shoulder. “I know that this is hard, Apex. I know.”

“You know _nothing,_ ” he growled back. “How could you? You’ve only known us for… what? Two weeks?” Apex wasn’t sure why he was lashing out at Starfish. Perhaps it was because he was upset with himself, and directing his harsh words at the SeaWing in front of him was much easier than directing them at himself. Perhaps he was trying to drive them away, rather than watch them continue to labor under burdens that should rightfully be Apex’s to carry. Either way, Starfish looked hurt by what he had said, and took a step back. Instantly, the prince regretted what he had said. “Starfish--”

“No,” they said, cooly. “No, you’re right. I haven't known you for long enough to care, is that it? I’m just a naïve little SeaWing, making friends with the first dragons to cross my path. I know nothing of loyalty, nothing of trust. I. Know. _Nothing,_ ” they finished in a hiss. 

“That’s not what I--”

“Not what you meant?” Starfish flicked their tail in contempt, as if to brush away the notion. “Sure, Apex, sure. Want to know what I think? I think you’re possessive and self-obsessed. I think you believe--truly believe--that Permafrost belongs solely to you, and you can’t wrap your head around the fact that someone else cares for him just as much as you do! You think that I’m doing this so that _you_ don’t have to, you think that I’m putting myself in harm’s way to protect _you!”_ They laughed, a harsh bark of contempt in the back of their throat. “It was never about you, Apex. And if you love him even _half_ as much as you claim you do, you’ll let me take myself to see Coypu and hightail it to NightWing territory!” 

Apex stared at Starfish for a long moment, levelling them with a serious look. While their words had had their desired effect, had made Apex doubt himself, he knew what the SeaWing was doing--driving him away. And he refused to let them part like this. “You’re right,” he relented. “I’m sorry… you’re right. But I still don’t want you to go alone. Think you can hold your own in a fight with that guy?” His tail twitched toward Reaper, who had long-since lost interest in the argument and was sampling beetles from a rotten log. He'd have to trust that Starfish knew what they were doing. 

Starfish rolled their eyes. “That wackjob? What do you take me for?”

Apex gave them a weak smile, but they didn’t return it. Maybe they had been serious about what they had said. Maybe those wounds would take a long time to heal. Maybe the two didn’t have a long time to close the rift that stretched between them. They were so vastly different, connected primarily by their shared care for Permafrost, who would probably give them both a thorough pummeling for risking their necks at every available second. 

Still, the prince wanted Starfish to know that he didn’t blame them. Just in case this _was_ the last memory they had of him. “I’ll be off, then. Don’t get lost.”

Starfish snorted and whirled around, leaving Apex lingering in the latter’s absence for a few seconds longer than was strictly necessary. Perhaps he was waiting for the emerald-green SeaWing to wish him luck, or give him any indication that they weren’t _too_ mad. No such luck. They stormed away, ignoring Apex. Reaper looked up and scrambled after them, casting one last mournful glance at his bug-infested log. 

He sighed, forcing his feeling--and the lump in his throat--down. Trapped between love, friendship, and a looming sense of ominousness…

He just wanted to go home. 

That’s when Apex heard a branch rustle, and spotted a flash of something light out of the corner of his eye. An animal? A dragon? He heard quiet steps making their way towards him, and felt a slight chill invade the air. He recognized those cold claws that seemed to scrape down his back, at once disturbing and exciting. Dumbfounded, he whirled around to face the dragon. 

“Permafrost?! But how did… you…”

But the dragon that stood in front of him wasn’t Permafrost. 

It wasn’t anyone he knew.

But it _was_ an IceWing, and it _was_ looking at him like one might look at prey before the kill. 

“Hello, Princey~” They said in a smooth, thick accent. 

Apex didn’t hesitate to take to the sky and fly as far and as fast as possible. He knew enough about IceWings and enough about hunting to know that he was being targeted. 

_Not again,_ he groaned, internally, as he heard her lift into the air after him. 

Like a shark in the water, he knew he had to keep moving, or she would eventually catch up with him. 

  
_This is going to be a_ long _night._


	28. Chapter Twenty-Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apex's strength is fading fast as he desperately retreats from an unknown enemy. Will he be able to make it to the portal in time, or will he buckle under the pressure?

His wings flapped, uselessly, desperately, against the torrential rain and gusting winds whipping at his face. Apex had flown directly into a raging storm, hoping to lose the IceWing that was surely riding his tail by now. 

Right?

He hadn’t stopped to look back, and he couldn’t hear the wing beats of a pursuing dragon behind him. Then again, he hadn’t heard much of _anything_ in regards to the off-white IceWing. She had seemed intangible, impermeable, moving with an elegance that the prince had never witnessed until that day. 

And he had thought that _Permafrost_ was the definition of stealth. This dragon barely made an impact on the things she made contact with; no pebble knocked askew by a straw swipe of a claw, no rush of wind disturbing the treetops when she beat her wings. Or, at least, Apex assumed her ability to silence her movements extended to flying. Either that, or she had lost interest and was league's away, but he wasn't willing to stop and risk being caught unawares.

Which led him to this moment. A scramble against a possibly-imagined enemy, one who may or may not be about to claw him to pieces the moment he falters. So, the obvious solution is to not give her a chance to pounce. 

Or… dive? She could be above him. Or below him. Behind him. For all he knew, she knew exactly where he was going and was waiting for him there. Could this IceWing have the ability to read minds? Apex didn’t think so, but anything was possible when your enemy was unprecedented. Still--it would be a feat for her to know where he was headed, when the prince _himself_ had absolutely no idea where this storm system would take him. 

His head was as foggy as the mass of clouds that swirled and arched around him. The jagged claws of the storm tore into him, mentally and physically, until it was all Apex could do to keep himself aloft. At this point, he didn’t know how far he had travelled, but he would keep going until…

Until…

Until what?

As if his question was heard by some cruel deity, the wind was pulled out from under his wings like a rug. There was a moment--a brief lapse of confusion, realization, and panic--before he began plummeting to the ground. 

_The eye of the storm?_

His legs kicked uselessly towards the sky, and he swiveled so that his head wouldn’t be the first thing to hit the ground. That was the worst case scenario, however. With any luck, he could still save himself from the fall. Blood filled Apex’s mouth, and it took him a moment to register that he had bitten his tongue--hard. 

_Has time ceased it’s forward march?_

His wings pumped at the still air, unable to drum up enough momentum to right himself. A flurry of sand rushed up to meet him, kicked up by the storm, and a surge of fear rose in him as the gray sky disappeared behind a yellowish cloud of those fine, crystalized particles. 

_Have my wings given out on me?_

The ground rushed up to meet him. 

_Is this where I die?_

He caught one last glimpse of the sky. The storm system had moved on, leaving a small gap through which the night sky seemed to smile down on him. The stars twinkled, watching him fall, laughing. He reached a claw towards the heavens, as if to grab a hold of one of them and cling to it like a lifeline. 

_I’m not ready. I’m not ready to go! Not until I find him, not until I repay my debts!_

And he was falling, until he wasn't. Until the ground had finally captured him in its earthen embrace. 

And fear left him. 

And darkness flooded him. 

And it whispered: 

_Not yet._

~

They had been forced to leave. Again. 

It wasn’t anyone’s fault: not specifically. They stood out too much in such a small village; Pharaoh, with his unusual amber color, Vera, with her overly-large wings, Hyena, with his white eyes and pale complexion. And Anubis… 

Anubis was the strangest of the flock. His brothers and sisters often lamented his usage of the blindfold, claiming that it certainly didn’t help the strange ‘vibes’ he naturally gave off. He just shrugged and told them that it was a necessary sacrifice. No one forced him to take it off. It only came off when Anubis was making an execution. If the blindfold was off, one could be sure that a nearby dragon was unwittingly breathing their final breaths. 

His tail slid over the shifting sands, orienting him in a nearly soundless land. The only indication of life was the sounds of his siblings crawling over the hot earth, and the hiss of snakes slipping through the scruffy underbrush. They were undoubtedly searching for shade to soothe their tired scales--both the snakes and his siblings. 

_Our purposes align with those of serpents,_ Anubis mused. _What does that make us?_

“Ow! Quit that!” Vera shouted out, rather angrily. The party of conspicuous SandWings stopped their advance. 

“Quit what? I’m not even doing anything!” Hyena, ever the immature dragonet, exclaimed. Anubis wondered if the dispute would solve itself, or come to blows. Last time those two got into a heated argument, Pharaoh had to pull them from each other’s throats. 

“Oh, don’t you dare play dumb,” Vera growled. “You know exactly what you were doing.” 

“Guys,” Pharaoh sighed, listless. “Can we not do this right now? We need to find shelter before night-fall. Besides, you know what our assignment is. Father entrusted us with a very important mission, and we can’t afford tedious distractions.”

At the mention of Father, the gathered dragons went silent. Everyone recognized his paternal authority, and not one of us dared question it. The statement was a powerful one; we did not fear Father. We simply did not wish to disappoint. He _had_ trusted us with something very important, after all. 

_A wedding._

Hyena had balked at the idea of attending a wedding. He had never been one for all the pomp and pristine of celebratory events, and had done his best to stray away from any type of formality that may demand the adoption of some semblance of manners for an extended period of time. In other words, Anubis’ brother was a buffoon, as Vera had not-so-lovingly referred to him as on multiple occasions. 

But, having had been promised the rich blood of royalty at this union, Hyena reluctantly agreed to attend. They had received the message from Father a few days prior, and were now making steady progress towards the SkyWing kingdom. By foot, per Father’s request and to Vera’s enormous despair. 

“Pharaoh is right,” Anubis chimed in, voice solemn. “Though, perhaps we can make a detour. If that is alright with all of you.”

His siblings shifted in the sand. Anubis could practically hear the cogs turning in their heads: a suggestion from him was not to be ignored, but the way he had phrased it had made it sound as though the subject of such a detour was something beyond Father’s foresight. They _always_ acted according to what their Father wished of them. 

“It will not take long,” Anubis insisted. “I hear something calling to me. I have reason to believe that it is important.”

“Will it,” Vera began, then hesitated. “Will it distract us from our duty, brother?”

_Brother._ The pretense was dropped, and ritual was adopted. Anubis was no longer being asked as a singular dragon, with wishes and desires: he was being interrogated as a member of the family. As such, he must make his answer as honest as possible, while remaining humble and devoid of personal interests. 

“Perhaps,” he admitted. “But I do believe that, while taking us off of our original course, it will put us on the path down a new course. A faster course. The ends will be the same, the present will be mildly altered.”

His siblings sucked in a collective breath and held it. This decision was Pharaoh’s to make, being the oldest among them and the peacemaker in their group. To concede would mean to risk angering Father with impotence. To disagree might create disharmony, or worse, disregard a potentially efficient plan in favor of tradition. Anubis knew he was putting his brother in an atrocious position, but he couldn’t help the feeling that itched below his scales. A whisper crept along his spine, a suggestion: _Go East._ What would they miss if they didn’t listen?

Finally, after a long contemplation, Pharaoh answered the question hanging in the air with another question. “Did the darkness say this to you, brother?”

Anubis nodded in affirmation. He heard his siblings shuffling their wings, eager to get moving and break the tension building around this scene. But no one would move until the question was answered. 

The decision, in the end, took little more than a few seconds to make. But those moments felt like they spanned the length of hours, with all four dragons waiting in baited silence to hear the final verdict.

“Fine,” Pharaoh answered. Changes could be made. Changes _had_ been made, once before; Father had approved of it in the past, so long as it came from Anubis. Why would now be any different? “How far do you have to go?”

“Seven hundred paces to the East,” Anubis replied. 

No one was excited to take the unplanned detour, but no one complained. Every now and then, Anubis could feel the spiteful eyes of Hyena screwed up against his back, but he ignored it. Pharaoh had been right--they couldn’t afford distractions. 

Eventually, as Anubis had predicted, they came upon a lump lying in the dessert. It was partially covered with sand, and unmoving, but Anubis caught the glint of gold beneath the beige, even through the thick folds of the cloth wrapped around his eyes. He knew, without even touching it, that this was a dragon. An _important_ dragon. 

“Uncover him,” Anubis ordered. It wasn’t his position to be directing the group’s actions, but no one questioned. All of them, he sensed, were too caught up in the mystery of what this strange dragon was doing in the middle of the desert, and whether or not it was alive. 

“Anubis,” Pharaoh murmured in wonder, halfway through the process of excavating the dragon, “you might want to take the blindfold off for this.”

“I cannot,” he replied. “Who is it?” He asked instead. 

“It’s…” Vera began. 

“The SkyWing prince,” Hyena finished, amazed. 

“He comes with us,” Anubis decided. 

“What, back to the palace? Isn't this _his_ wedding we're attending??” Vera asked. 

“Yes, and yes. That is where it will begin, and where it will end.” Anubis walked forward a couple paces, until he was standing in front of the prince’s limp form. He could hear the shallow sound of breathing; he was alive. Anubis rested a talon on him, and felt the raw potential radiating off of his golden scales in a beacon of light and warmth. “He will show us the way.” 

“Did…” Pharaoh hesitated. “Did the darkness tell this to you?”

“No,” Anubis said. “This prediction comes from my own intuition. I beseech you, siblings: heed my advice, and we will not be lost.” 

A heartbeat. Two. Silence. 

“Please.” A hint of desperation crept into Anubis’ voice. He couldn’t fulfill the prince’s destiny on his own. “I would not suggest this if I wasn’t certain. You all know that.”

“Well,” Hyena sighed, “I guess we can’t just leave him.”

“Yes,” Pharaoh declared in a distracted murmur. “What is done, is done. We stepped onto this path, and now we mustn’t waver. Come… let’s deliver this wayward prince to his castle, and the dragoness that awaits him.”


	29. Chapter Twenty-Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fatechanger is tasked with creating a loyal suitor for her queen—and, somewhat reluctantly, she obliges. But what if there’s more to it than that? Fatechanger begins to question her queen’s motives, and recognizes her own desires through the eyes of another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone. I’m going to preface this by saying that my motivation is low lately—this is because of a sudden loss that has left me grieving. I’ll still be posting, just less frequently until I come to terms with this. As always, I hope you enjoy :) 
> 
> P. S. I didn’t really edit this one, so I’m sorry if it has some grammatical or punctuation errors.

Fatechanger felt… perplexed.

Why would her queen ask this of her? 

Sure, she understood that something had to be done, but why did he have to have  _ feelings  _ for her? There was a fine line to be drawn between love and obligation, and Fatechanger thought that the arrangement involved strict obligation. Not that the little IceWing had much of a say in this. 

He stood before her, practically shaking, but not--infuriatingly--out of fear. It was a shake in his bones, borne from the after-effects of a debilitating illness and what he had been through over the past week. Fatechanger could see how much of an effort it was for him to stand, and felt a kind of begrudging respect for this failure of an assassin. He may not be good at the execution stage of his job, but he had a lot of resilience in the face of capture.

In fact, a  _ stupid  _ amount of resilience. As if he didn’t care what happened to him, as if he had long-ago resigned himself to be subject to the slights of other dragons. It made Fatechanger want to pry open his head and take a peek inside, just to see what was going on up there. There must have been something making him tick. 

But that wasn’t what her queen wanted. Her queen wanted a loyal consort, a slave… a  _ companion.  _ The word made Fatechanger feel ill. 

“It won’t work,” he murmured under his breath. They hadn’t put the clamps around his snout, mainly because he was too exhausted to summon and Frostbreath anyway. However, he was still held firmly to the floor by chains that snaked around his wrist and shackled to stalagmites. 

“Be quiet, prisoner.” She was in no mood for his snappiness today. With a flick of her tail, she began preparing what she’d have to do. She didn’t know if it was possible, but--no. She’d make it possible. She’d do anything for Queen Ebonyshadow. 

“Harsh. Here I am, trying to make conversation, and you’re only interested in playing the part of a perfect little pet.”

“I am not a pet.” She didn’t mean to reply to him, but she couldn’t help the words that escaped her mouth. He seemed satisfied, like he had finally pinned her down. 

“Aren’t you? You trail after her, listen to her attentively, do what she asks… sometimes she even looks your way. You must feel so special.”

“I  _ am  _ special.” She could feel what little patience she possessed wearing thin. “Unlike you.”

“Ah, and there it is,” he nodded to himself, like she had confirmed something. Instantly, in spite of herself, she felt curiosity build in her mind and fought to suppress it. In the end, however, she gave in. 

“What is??” When he didn’t reply, she snarled. “You know I can look inside your mind, right?”

“The jealousy,” he answered, simply. 

“I’m not jealous,” Fatechanger defended, indignant. Who was this IceWing to suggest that she, a proud member of the NightWing tribe, would stoop so low as to feel envious of a dragon who was currently gift-wrapped in chains and about to be drained of every last memory he had left in that ugly head? “You’re trying to stall me. I won’t let you.” 

“You know, I’ve learned in my life that the dragons who are most adamant about something have just as much doubt as they do passion. The two go claw in claw, really.” Permafrost shifted into a more comfortable—as comfortable as he could get—position, a conversational stance. His voice, when he spoke, was cool and unworried. But Fatechanger saw past his tone and expression. Fatechanger saw beneath his scales, where he was just a frightened child with nothing more than a desperate hope and memories of a different time left to him. 

“And I’ve learned that the most fearless dragons are the ones who are the most scared. Or stupid.” Fatechanger pulled away from his thoughts, afraid of getting too immersed. This IceWing let his mind fly by at a fast pace; it made it difficult for her to track the flow. “You aren’t stupid,” she observed, “and you’re very frightened.” 

“I am.” She was shocked by his admission. “I’m terrified. Wouldn’t you be, if someone was trying to erase your memories? Reboot you, so you could be recreated in someone else’s image?” 

“If that’s… what my queen desires.” Fatechanger hated the hesitation in her voice. “I will do anything for my queen.” 

“And we’re back to that.” Permafrost seemed to draw back, both physically and mentally, as if disgusted by her devotion. 

“Hypocrite,” she murmured, darkly. 

“Hm?” 

“I was just reflecting on the fact that you like to judge people for doing exactly what you do,” Fatechanger said, loftily. 

“And what do I do?” Permafrost looked amused. Fatechanger wanted nothing more than to smear whatever was left of his face into the ground.

“Devote your life, your soul, and your body to your queen. You would die for her—don’t lie. I’ve seen it in your mind. I’ve seen the callousness and intensity with which you carry out your assassinations. You—what?” She would have continued, but Permafrost was making a strange wheezing noise. After a moment, Fatechanger recognized it as laughter. A perverted version of it: It was all he could manage in his weakened state. 

“Oh,” he sighed when the fit subsided, “that’s rich. You sincerely believe that I disregard my life for the sake of the royal agenda?” 

“Well… yes. You’ve shown on multiple occasions that you would rather suffer than risk giving information to your enemies. You can’t tell me that it was because it never affected you. I see the fragments of your mind, the way they bury themselves in your body and paralyze you with terror. You’re afraid, but you’ve never once betrayed your allegiances.” 

“Wow.” Permafrost shook his head, ruefully. “Do you know what it’s like… to know that nothing matters? To know that each day you’re going to wake up, and it will all start over again? And you wish you could just end the cycle, you wish you could… but you’re crippled by fear. Fear of them, fear of what comes after... And then someone takes that choice from you. Some dragon decides to come along and end the cycle, and no matter how bad it hurts, no matter how horribly you suffer… it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter, because all you can feel… is relief.” 

Fatechanger was, to say the least, perplexed. And a tad troubled. A sense of helplessness had clearly set into this dragon’s bones and wouldn’t let up, not even for long enough to  _ consider  _ the possibility of a better future. She had never before experienced that type of doubt, and hoped she never would. Her future was bright—it had to be, so long as she continued to work for her benevolent queen. “You are the most pitiful dragon I’ve ever met.” 

Finally, her words seemed to reach him. The IceWing hung his head and heaved a sigh. She could see his ribs straining against the chains with every ragged inhale, but she couldn’t feel pity for this wretched creature. He had done this to himself. Satisfied that he was done trying to distract her, she focused her energies inward and prepared to enter his mind. Once inside, she planned to rip apart everything that made this dragon who he was. Her queen would do the rebuilding; It was her task, and her task alone, to demolish the palace he had built around his mind. 

“Have you ever loved anyone?” His voice came again to her ears, but it was quiet and defeated. She knew she shouldn’t speak with him. Yet… 

“I have. I do.” Fatechanger sucked in a sharp breath and began flipping through the contents of his mind. Images and sounds flashed by, some of them bled of color and devoid of life. Over it all was a tone of numbness; like a cold setting into her scales, permeating through her sinew, Fatechanger felt the void that yawned within Permafrost’s heart. She dug deeper. 

“Who?” His spirit was gone. His fire was gone. He sounded… tired. 

“My queen.” Deeper. She couldn’t stop herself from asking, “And you? Have you ever felt love?” She would find the answer herself, at his core, but none of his memories had the soft edge of affection. They were all crisp, chilly, and sharp, like an icicle. 

He huffed a laugh, legs finally giving out on him. “... I don’t know how,” he answered honestly. “But I want to learn. I want him to teach me.” 

“Him?” Fatechanger arrived at the deepest parts of his heart, the well of his emotions, the epitome of his identity. And there… she saw it. She saw  _ him.  _ Apex. And as she destroyed his memories, she realized… she felt remorse over what could have been.

~

“Are we there yet?” Clam felt her wings cramp with each beat. She wasn’t used to flying long distances, since most of her time was spent in the water or walking around the shore. The fact that each flap took her further and further from her home certainly didn’t motivate her to try harder, either. 

“Almost,” her advisor (babysitter), Finnigan, reassured. “In about five minutes, we’ll be coming up on a geographical monument to the late queen,—“ 

“Do you hear that?” Clam interrupted him, angling her wings downward so she could drift slowly and steadily away from him. 

“W-“ Finnigan, ever the blockhead, couldn’t seem to take a hint and swooped down after her. “Princess! What do you hear??” 

“I believe,” she said, tilting her head to the side as if listening closely to some imaginary noise, “it’s the sound of me not caring.” 

“B-b-but,” he sputtered, “you have no interest in learning the history of the great dragons that came before us? You could learn a lot from the faults and triumphs of our ancestors. The rock formation is said to commemorate the actions of Queen Augusta—“ 

“If they were so great,” Clam interjected, “then they wouldn’t have died. Leave me alone, before I turn  _ you  _ into a cautionary tale.” 

Finnigan gulped and finally, blissfully, let a draft carry him back towards the main procession. Alone and at peace—as much peace as she could be in, considering she was about to enter the belly of the beast—she had some time to ponder what her new life might be like. She had heard talk of his charming wit and courteous actions, but had never taken the time to actually  _ listen  _ to the stories themselves. She clocked out the moment anyone started to speak of Apex, because every conversation started the same. 

_ Oh, yes, the prince. A gentleman, indeed. One time, when I was visiting the SkyWing palace— _

Perhaps she should have listened. Then, she would know more about her enemy. His faults, his weaknesses; Surely, he had weaknesses. No dragon was  _ that  _ perfect. Yet, she had never heard someone speak ill of him. However… the dragons with the most to hide, she knew, showed the least. The less anyone knew of him, the better. If he didn’t show his bad habits and faults, it didn’t mean he didn’t have them. Just that they were too ugly to show. 

_ Maybe he will be interesting. I’ll have fun playing with him, before I kill him.  _

“Uh…. princess…” 

“What now, Finnigan? Can’t you see I’m thinking?” 

Clam looked back to see him flapping towards her, looking absolutely ridiculous. His mouth snapped open and shut, and finally, he simply pointed downwards. She tilted her head to see whatever he was seeing—probably another monument—and nearly stopped mid-flight. Her procession slowed, as did she, until they were hovering over the scene on the ground. 

NightWings. 

A whole host of them, marching their way towards the SkyWing palace. 

While she was fairly confident that they hadn’t been invited to the wedding, this wasn’t the fact that shocked her. The thing that made Princess Clam do a double-take was the fact that nobody had seen  _ one  _ NightWing in thirty years, let alone an army of them. 

Why here? 

Why now? 

And who the heck was the IceWing they had with them, obediently trailing after the party as though he was one of them? 

  
  



End file.
